


You Could Use a Friend

by LilacCities



Category: The Dark Crystal (1982), The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, No Smut, Pure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-01-13 02:02:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21236309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilacCities/pseuds/LilacCities
Summary: Gurjin and Maudra Laesid travel to Ha'rar to celebrate the coming of age for Seladon, the eldest daughter of All-Maudra Mayrin. Can anyone handle the pressure of the Vapran court?





	1. Chapter 1

Naia's feet pounded on the stairs of the Great Smerth. Huffing as she almost slid down the stairs, dreads and braids flying behind her. The gelfling she passed all offered kind greetings and smiles, but she couldn't be bothered to return them. Down the stairs she went, muttering as she ran. How could this happen? How dare her mother do this? Her blood was boiling as she pushed onward. Surely there had been a mistake! There was no way that this was true, that her mother wasn't going to take her on the journey with her. Naia tried to plan her argument perfectly, that was the only way to win an argument when your mother was the queen of hard-talk, pulling her hair behind her shoulder and huffing. Clearly, there had been a mistake, she was doing so well in training. Yes, perfect! That was how she would argue it. Her training was going well, she was getting even better at the healing vliyaya, and she hadn't quarreled with her younger sisters in at least two weeks. That was cause for a reward, right? 

Lost in thought, she slipped on the last step and collapsed into a heap on the floor with a less than graceful yelp. Groaning, she picked herself up and winced. Somehow she'd managed to land on her knees and her face at the same time, or at least that's how it felt. Rubbing on her cheek which was surely stained with the dirt common on Drenchen floors, she checked her leggings. "Perfect," she muttered, rolling her eyes and glaring at the now torn cloth. Her younger sisters would fix it in less than a minute with their gentle hands and quick fingers and uncanny ability to be the only Drenchen in at the Great Smirth who seemed to enjoy fixing clothes. As if to add insult to injury, her knee was scraped and light pink blood was slowly oozing to the surface of her dark green skin. "Absolutely perfect," Naia quickly placed her hand over the wound and took a deep breath, summoning the blue light of the healing vliyaya and channeling it into her knee. The cooling sensation was instantaneous and so calming, even in her state, Naia couldn't help but close her eyes and let out a little sigh. 

The wound healed and dirt majoritively rubbed off of her face, she took another deep breath and mentally ran through her points again. It was just her luck that she fell right outside the doors of her mother's sitting room, huge carved things with depictions of beautiful Maudra's from long ago still burning with the dream etching of the first Maudra showing her daughter into this room. It used to be a tradition that the daughters of the Drenchen Maudra couldn't enter the sitting room until they reached a certain age, but that fell by the wayside as time went on. Without knocking, Naia pushed open the great wooden doors and strode inside. 

Maudra Laesid was in her usual chair, closest to the glass window with her great wings settled in the slits in the back of the largest wooden rocking chair the room could offer. It wasn't detailed or carved, but clearly well used over the ages. Naia couldn't help but feel her heart swell when she saw it, reminding her of all the times her mother let her crawl into her lap, how she'd place her younger sisters there, climbing up into the big seat when her mother wasn't laughing. Now the seat was occupied. Maudra Laesid's long hair was getting its newest braid courtesy of Naia's youngest sisters, weaving a bright blue ribbon in the graying strands. Her face was set and kind, with laugh lines and crows feet showing the world her years of laugher and wisdom that she'd gifted the Drenchen clan. Laesid's fingers drummed on the head of her cane. Her eyes were understanding, but firm, Naia knew that this was an expected visit and wouldn't be easy to win. 

"Mother, I just heard the news about the visit to Ha'rar and-" 

"You aren't going." Laesid turned her gaze toward Naia with an almost pathetic amount of empathy. "You aren't ready." Ever the queen of hard-talk, she didn't sugar coat anything. What needed to be said, was. 

"But I am ready!" Naid quickly felt the bubble of frustration in her chest grow into anger. "I've been doing very well in my training. You can ask any of my instructors, I've been getting better and better every day." She quickly found a cushion to sit on and pulled it closer to her mother's chair, planting herself firmly there. 

"Yes, I've spoken to them. They also tell me that you aren't paying attention when they teach. Your adaptive skills are impressive, and your ability to create new techniques is equally so, but you need to listen when they sp-" 

"But I'm doing better with the healing vliyaya!" Naia almost slapped herself when she interrupted her mother. Way to prove her point. Laesid raised her eyebrows with an unimpressed look. "I'm sorry, Mother." Naia bowed her head a little. Laesid let her youngest daughters finish the braid before shooing them out of the room. 

"You aren't ready, Naia. How can I expect you to handle Ha'rar, the All-Maudra, her daughters; if you can hardly handle holding your tongue with your mother?" Naia bit her tongue to keep from retorting. Talking back now wouldn't help her case, she needed to showcase all of her assets. Straightening her posture and raising her chin, she let her mother continue. "Your vliyaya has come far, yes, but you can't heal your knee scrapes without some kind of tell." Naia shifted to look at her knee. Of course, there was a small scrape mark still left over, and of course, her mother saw it. If only she spent a few more seconds on it! "You can hardly handle diplomatic talks when your father practices with you." 

"But that's soft-talk! You've always told me that hard-talk solves problems faster." 

"And it does. But you have to recognize when to use hard-talk and when to use soft-talk. Do you think the Vapra will appreciate hard-talk? In their city? In their territory? Really Naia, use your head." Laesid rose from the rocking chair, carefully pulling her thick dark wings out from the back, and knelt next to Naia, struggling and shaking lightly as she went. Naia gently helped her mother down to her height, a twang of hurt resonated in her chest, her mother's leg wasn't good for this kind of movement. "One day, you will be ready, and I promise when that day comes I will take you to Ha'rar with me. Now isn't your time. You need to accept that with some dignity." Her mother's face was streaked with a sad look, regret maybe? Naia couldn't help the anger in her chest from growing. 

"You need to take someone with you," Naia muttered, her cheeks flushing. "Who are you taking? A few guards? Impressive, Mother." She couldn't help but spit the last few words. 

Maudra Laesid rose with a bitter look crossing her lips. "Actually, I am taking someone. Your brother." 

Naia shot straight up, the cushion practically flying across the room. "Gurjin? No! That's impossible!" 

Laesid scoffed. "Impossible? Clearly that isn't the case, childling. He can handle soft-talk for longer than five minutes." 

"But he isn't your successor! He's just Gurjin! He isn't-" 

"Naia!" Her mother cut her off with a sharp word. It felt like a slap to the face when her name was said like that. "You know I hate to argue with you. Gurjin is a castle guard, he has a grasp of the kind of talk we use in Ha'rar. He has fighting prowess and has risen through the ranks faster than any Drenchen drafted before him! He can handle diplomatic settings, something you have clearly demonstrated a lacking in today." 

"But he's such a child! He plays jokes and flirts with everyone! He's not fit to go on a diplomatic mission." Naia's chest was heaving. It was hard to receive criticism from her mother, especially when she was right. This isn't how she planned this meeting to go. She wasn't demonstrating the diplomatic skills she'd hoped. "And-" her voice caught in her throat. "He just got here. He barely ever visits us anymore! He's only been with us a few nights Mother. The trip to Ha'rar will take up the rest of his leave. It's better to take both of us at least." 

"You have no idea how badly I want to take you," Her wrinkling hand brushed Naia's cheek. "I want you to travel with me everywhere I go. I would take our family everywhere if I could, you know that. I miss you all more than I can begin to describe. When Gurjin was summoned to be a castle guard I-" She stopped herself there, even a Maudra couldn't say certain things against the Skeksis and their laws. Laesid's face melted into an expression of a complex sadness Naia couldn't quite read. 

"Then why don't you?" Naia's voice cracked. "Why can't you take me with you? I'm ready. I promise! I can handle this, just let me show you. Please!" 

Laesid closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "You know that you aren't ready. You're just jealous of your brother Naia. Try to understand." 

Naia knew she shouldn't push the issue, but something forced her to open her mouth. "Please? I'm ready." 

Laesid shook her head and turned her back. "We're leaving in the morning. Try to be happy for your brother." She flexed her wings before walking out of her room, her cane thumping louder than usual on the way down the stairs as she went to the dining hall, probably to arrange whatever the song-tellers would be performing.

Naia was left in shock. She'd never seen her mother almost cry before, especially when it came to Gurjin. His name usually carried a tone of light exasperation, a chuckle, at least one or two good stories from when he was a childling. She knew that her mother was sad to see him go, but she always believed the summoning was a source of pride for Laesid, something she could brag about to the other Maudras about how her strongest and only son joined the castle guard. Naia hated that her brother was taken from her and she made no pretense about that fact, but her mother? She swallowed the lump in her throat and the anger in her chest dissolved into resignation. 

With another calming breath, Naia ran up to her room. Feet thumping louder than ever before as she passed gelfling after gelfling. The thought of not being ready to handle a simple diplomatic mission, that she wasn't ready for it, felt like a hard rock in her stomach. Her brother being better suited to the same mission that her? Another rock dropped into her. Now he'd be gone for the rest of his leave? Gone for who knew how long again? Guards rarely got leave, traveling to the Great Smerth took some of Gurjin's leave to begin with. He'd only been there for a small time and now he'd be leaving again. It was at least two trines before Gurjin came to visit the first time. He was different when he came back. His muscles were more developed than Naia's. He was stronger than her, beating her in all the drills she'd insisted they run together. His chest was puffed with pride whenever he'd brag about how large and luxurious the palace was, his new friends from different clans, and all the exciting adventures they would go on. Naia didn't want to admit how jealous she truly was, and how missing her brother barely clipped the wings of the jealousy. 

When she got to her room she threw open the door with little care for whatever bang it made down the echoing hallway. She slammed it shut again and huffed. "You're too old to throw such fits, Naia." She muttered to herself before opening her clothes trunk. Neatly folded inside were pairs of leggings and tunic tops all in their place. The tunic she had on was fine, but she figured her mother would at least appreciate an untorn pair of leggings at dinner. Changing quickly, she glanced out the window and figured she still had some time before she needed to be in the dining hall at the base of the Great Smirth. She hoisted herself into her hammock, shifting her dreads so her head could sink more comfortably into the pillows. Why did she pitch such a fit to her mother? She'd had such good intentions and an even better plan! She hadn't expected this to be so hard, or for her anger to push her so far off the handle. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by her door opening. She sighed, heavy footsteps marked the entering of an uninvited guest into her bedroom. "I didn't think you'd throw a tantrum." 

"Get out Gurjin." Naia groaned and turned away from her brother to face the window. "I don't need you to tease me." 

"I'm not here to tease you." He walked closer to her hammock and dragged a stool over. "I'm just here to talk." 

"So you're here to brag." 

"Not this time, no." He chuckled. "I haven't heard you slam your bedroom door since we were twelve trines old." Naia didn't say anything, Gurjin could tell his sister was bothered. "Do you want to talk about what Mother said?" 

She sat up, back still turned. "She told you?" 

"Maybe she let something slip when she ran into me." He stifled a laugh. "You're acting like a childling." 

"I am not!" She spun around, some unruly hair slapping her cheeks. "I'm allowed to be upset Gurjin!" 

"You're right," Her brother conceded. "I just didn't think this would be how you deal with it. I mean, you're usually the mature one." 

"Not mature enough for Ha'rar." 

"I've met some Vapra at the castle," Naia groaned. "I'm not bragging! I just mean to say that not all of them are as cracked up as they think. There are a few good ones out there but-" He paused, searching for the right words. "But I don't think you'd like them very much. They're kinda full of themselves." 

"That isn't the point!" Naia slid out of her hammock and began to pace around the room. "Mother acts like you're magically better than me! Just because you've gone off to be a castle guard and you galavant around with your Stonewood guard buddies! You haven't had to sit through the hours of the most boring meetings on the most idiotic and minute things! How to handle small fights between families. How to deal with injured pets. How to properly open a childling's gills. How to consult the counters to redistribute leftovers. How to use soft-talk Gurjin! Soft-talk! Father and I will sit at a table and just use soft-talk for the most mind-numbing topics he can dream up! It's awful! You don't understand what it feels like to sit there and listen to him drone on and on and on when you know he could just get to the point!" 

Gurjin sat, taking in her words and sighing. "I'm not going to apologize Naia. If it was my decision you'd get to be a guard with me, you know that." His sister shifted her weight and crossed her arms. Gurjin tried not to laugh. "You know, you think training soft-talk with Father is bad? Try being one of the only hard-talkers in your squadron. You have to learn how to soft-talk if you want anyone to get to know you." 

Naia rolled her eyes. "You're good at making friends Gurjin, soft-talk or not. Mother thinks you're so good at it that you're going to Ha'rar with her tomorrow morning." 

"Do you really want to go to Ha'rar? Really?" 

Naia paused, clearly taken back by the question. "O-of course I do." 

"I think you just want to prove something to Mother. I don't think you actually want to leave here. You want her to be proud of you, more proud of you. I mean, you love it here. You'd rather have me stay here then become a castle guard with me, you'd stay here forever if you could." 

Naia stopped pacing before jumping up into her hammock again with a large sigh. "I hate you sometimes." 

"Because I'm right?" 

There was a moment of silence. "Yes." 

"You know that Mother is proud of you, right?" Gurjin tilted his head a little. "She talks about it when you aren't around all that time. Even tells me." 

Naia's head shot up. She didn't know that. "Really?" 

"Yeah! All the time! She bragged about you all morning when you were out doing drills. How much better you've gotten at swimming and that you're getting better at the vliyaya. She even told me that you'd be ready to go on diplomatic missions to Sami Thicket soon." 

"Really?" Naia felt a small bit of pride swell up in her chest. The thought of being trusted to meet with the bordering clan was a responsibility that hadn't crossed her mind before. 

He nodded. "Do you wanna go to dinner now? Mother said there's going to be a lot of fish tonight." He stood from his seat and sighed, motioning towards the door. "You aren't going to stay up here all night are you?" Naia slid off her hammock, shaking her head, before lightly punching his shoulder and taking off towards the stairs, laughing as she went. 

The twins ran down the stairs, they hadn't done this since they were children. Gurjin was a little surprised at how Naia was sliding so easily back into their old childhood habits. They were pretty even paced. Most everyone was already downstairs, waiting for dinner to officially start, so the stairwell was clear enough for the two to jostle and shove each other playfully as they went. It was fun to be children, even if just for a moment. The two laughed harder then they had in a while, the halls echoing with the thuds of their feet and their laughter. 

Down in the dining room, Maudra Laesid smiled a little. She could hear the laughter of her two eldest children and their footsteps pounding down the circular stairwell that spiraled inside the trunk of the Great Smerth. She closed her eyes and let herself get lost in the fantasy that they were still tiny childlings, hair just long enough to have ribbons or feathers weaved in. Memories came flooding back in rapid succession. Gurjin and Naia's first fight, then their first training drills, learning to swim together. The way they both swam the exact same way. How they would play fight constantly. The way Naia would braid Gurjin's hairs and how Gurjin would carve small toys out of wood for her birthday. The racing down the stairs for dinner. Calling her over excitedly to show off how deep they could go in the swamp waters and begging her to join them. Laesid could still remember the way they would scramble up into their seats of the head table, smiling wide and holding their eating sticks with closed fists and clumsily dancing with every song until they dropped. 

They burst into the dining room with huge grins, startling Laesid a little. Naia was smiling wider than she'd seen in ages and Gurjin was laughing so hard Laesid could see his gills twitching and pulsing. It brought a large smile to her face and a little pain in her heart. How often would Gurjin come home now? How much longer would he be willing to make the long journey to the Great Smirth to visit his family for his precious time on leave? What about Naia? Losing her brother made her go quiet for a little over two weeks. How much longer could Naia handle only seeing her brother for short periods of time? How many more differences would occur? Even though the two were twins, and anyone could see the strong resemblance that gelfling twins could bear, Laesid could see the changes. Gurjin was growing stronger, his fighting was becoming less and less Drenchen. Still aggressive and proud, to be sure, but there was more tact there, a kind of thought behind it that Laesid hadn't expected. Then there was his speaking. It was soft-talk. He used useless metaphors, dancing around the main topic of conversation when he could just use a single phrase, it was almost infuriating. Naia, on the other hand, had grown an almost unquenchable thirst to prove herself. Clearly she was trying in her studies, but it was also clear that she desired something beyond whatever her studies were offering her. When she was hunting, exploring the swamps, running fighting drills and play-fighting her instructors; that's when she seemed the happiest. But it was the denial of her important duties as the Madura's successor that worried her. Despite everything in Naia that wanted to prove herself, she was still a little too childish to show the self-restraint she needs. 

The siblings pulled themselves into their seats and waited eagerly for the dinner to begin. Laesid was surprised to see how quickly Naia's mood had changed. She was giggling like a child and play shoving her brother. It was almost refreshing to see the effect Gurjin had on her, she seemed so much happier than usual when he was around. Looking at them now, Laesid could feel the pride growing inside of her. Two healthy twin babies that grew into happy childlings who grew into strong and proud Drenchen. So beautiful and handsome, so strong and proud. Both of them would surely become strong leaders once they came into their own. 

Dinner went off without a hitch. The drums were just as strong as they always have been. Food was hot and perfect, everyone managing to eat their fill and then some. The highlight for Laesid was by far the dancing. Drums pulsing into her bones, the pounding of feet on the ground, hands on chests and thighs, the song-tellers chanting the victories of battles past, and the hall shaking and echoing with pride and power. Laesid ached for the days she was young enough to join in, to show her pride, beat her chest, dance until her feet ached. It was a secret passion that she dearly missed. But, out of the corner of her eye, there was more movement than usual. Gurjin pushing back his chair and Naia following after him. Naia hardly ever danced at the clan dinners every night, when she did it was because she was in an incredibly good mood. Gurjin used to love dancing. Seeing them practically run to their clan, being welcomed with slaps on the back, cheers, yells, and support from all angles. Laesid felt herself beaming with pride, hoping that Naia and Gurjin could catch even a glance of her smile. As if by some magical force, Naia did glance in her direction, and she smiled back. 

It was almost ethereal to see the two together again, dancing as if nothing had changed between them. Like the two weren't ever apart to begin with. Moving in complete sync with each other, daring one to outshine the other, pounding their chests with pride and drowning in their clan. Seeing the twins together and dancing was almost like a shot of adrenaline straight to the heart. Laesid couldn't help but pound her cane in time with the music, her husband grinning from ear to ear and chuckling at her. 

As the night came to a close and people slowly filed back to their homes, Gurjin and Naia helped each other clean up the plates and hang them up in the vines that hung down from holes in the ceiling, the nightly rain would wash them and they would be dry for dinner the next night. The two made their way up to their respective rooms and fell asleep faster than they had in a very long time. The next day it would be off to Ha'rar.


	2. Chapter 2

Light had barely trickled into Gurjin's widow, crawling from the glass pane and brushing his cheeks before his father came to wake him. His mother probably had the good sense to ask Bellanji to raise him from sleep, knowing how heavy his sleeping habits have always been. He was having the most wonderful dream, something about winning a bola throwing competition and beautiful girls from practically every clan wanting to talk to him at dinner. It was very rudely interrupted by his body being dumped unceremoniously onto the floor. Even then, Gurjin wondered if he could return to the dream if he inched closer to the sunlight by the window. "Oh, no you don't!" Bellanji quickly grabbed his son's shoulders and, with considerable strength, stood him up on his feet. They were still sore from all the dancing the night before. Bellanji chuckled before playfully rubbing his son's cheeks. "Alright Gurjin, wake yourself up! Big day today!"

"Father, please. I will pay you, honestly pay you, for a few moments more of sleep." Gurjin felt his fingers numbly drifting towards the small pouch of emergency coins he usually kept strapped to his belt at all times. It was, theoretically, for food and shelter if all had gone wrong, but this felt like a noble and reasonable expenditure. 

"Sorry son, can't buy me today. Your mother is already dressed and got some guards waiting for you downstairs." Gurjin let his eyes slowly crack open to the welcome image of his father's large smile. He couldn't help but return it. "I left something for you on your trunk, by the way." Bellanji carefully let go of his child, only to have Gurjin fall forward and rest his head on Bellanji's shoulder. "You can't trick more sleep into me that way, come up! Time to get up!" 

"But it's so warm in here, 's not fair." Gurjin realized his mistake the second he opened his mouth. 

"Well, if that's the issue!" Bellanji pulled away. Gurjin's eyes widened in horror, catching himself before he fell to the floor again. 

"Father, wait! There's no issue!" 

"No, no! Let me help you wake up, childling." Bellanji's eyes sparkled with a cross of trademark laughter and trickery, as well as some sadistic pleasure. He quickly strode over to the window. 

"Please! No, don't! It's fine! See? I'm awake!" Bellanji's fingers were already working nimbly at the latch. 

"What are you talking about?" The window flew open. A wall of cold morning air slammed into Gurjin with the force of a full-grown Nebrie. "I'm just helping you wake up!" Mornings in the swamp were generally warm, sure, but this early always had the frigid reminder of the rain that just stopped a few hours before. The suns hadn't quite had the chance to heat up Sog. Gujin's groan turned into a growl as he shivered in his thin nightshirt and night leggings. 

"Consider me sufficiently awoken." He took a deep breath and stretched a little, a yawn exploding from his chest. 

"I'll see you downstairs in thirty minutes! Don't take too much time for your vanity." Bellanji clapped Gurjin on his shoulder before quickly crossing the hall to Naia's room. Predictably, there were about three verbal warnings before Gurjin heard his sister's body slam against the floor. At least the old ritual was fair. 

Gurjin changed quickly, finding a more sturdy traveling tunic and a pair of leggings that, hopefully, he wouldn't tear on the trip. He slid on his Drenchen armor, tanned Nebrie hide with designs carefully stamped in, signaling his status. Cracking his neck, he sluggishly packed a bag with a few extra tunics and leggings, as well as a set of formal clothes; his mother warned him to have them washed before they left. The stiff fabric made him sigh a little, what a hassle to wear. Still worth it to see the reactions of those around him. 

Slinging the bag onto his bag, he was almost ready to leave before glancing at his trunk. His father mentioned he'd left something there and he wasn't lying. It was a small canvas bag, small enough that Gurjin could curl it in his fist without a problem. The little leather drawstring was tight and Gurjin's thick fingers had to work at it for a few seconds before the bag relented and opened for him. Pouring the contents into his other hand, it took him a moment to understand what was there. 

Five round wooden beads. Just large enough to pull a dreadlock through but small enough that Gurjin wondered if they were meant to be on a bracelet. The tiny carved details caught his eye for a moment, no two beads were the same. One had swirling and gentle patterns, while another had deep gashes like an open wound. The carvings all seemed to glow with a kind of magic, faint and weak, but there. After a moment of consideration, carefully, Gurjin pinched a bead between his fingers and raised it to his eyes for closer inspection. 

It was the smallest of the five and seemed to have a wing pattern carved around it. The way the marks curved and angled reminded Gurjin of something, it poked and prodded at his memory like a hot knife, but he couldn't figure it out. He stared at the bead, plunking himself down to sit cross-legged on the floor. Carefully holding the other four decorative pieces with his other hand, he brought the bead even closer to his eyes. In an instant, it happened. 

A familiar pulling sensation sent his vision into a tailspin. The familiar wood of his room bent and warped into greens and dark browns. The feeling of a calm wind brushed over Gurjin's skin and the sun's rays broke through familiar trees. He was outside the Great Smerth, a great assembling of guards was readying themselves for some kind of event. Straightening tanned Nebrie armor and triple-checking weapons. All except for one. He looked cocky, confident, a glint in his eye like he just told the most amazing joke in the world and you missed the punchline. Something about the young gelfing's smirk reminded Gurjin of someone he knew. The gelfling was clearly some kind of leader, much more at ease than those around him. 

The doors of the Great Smerth were thrown open as a female gelfling strode out to meet them. All the guards scrambled to shove weapons in their holsters and stop straightening their armor. She was tall, even by Drenchen standards, with deep green skin and brown spots dotting her cheeks. Her eyes were deep and mysterious like she'd just found out your deepest secret, but at the same time understanding. Her braids and dreadlocks were woven with bright green ribbons and feathers, just barely pulled back enough to keep her face clear. Her tunic was longer than usual and embroidered with patterns of swamp flowers and birds. Even if the tunic looked decorative, it was still functional. Her belt still held a bola and she hoisted a traveling pack over her shoulder. Everything about her was purposeful, it felt planned and full of authority. Even Gurjin, who was mentally wondering if he could beat her in a bola throwing contest, was intimidated. Then there were her wings. Huge powerful things that she flexed and stretched without effort. Thick, dark, and inky they seemed like one or two beats could even lift her off the ground, even if Drenchen women couldn't fly. Their wings were all for the water, propelling them forward and aiding in direction, but this woman looked ready to challenge the best Vapran to a contest of flight. The confident guard quickly approached her and Gurjin could feel whatever he felt. Flirtatious intent, sure, but also hesitation and worry getting buried beneath layers of pride and confidence. 

It slammed into Gurjin quickly, the bead was dream-etched in a very powerful kind of way. That guard, whoever he was, this was his memory. Gurjin decided to relax and see what would play out between the guard and this woman. The guard didn't bow or offer any sign of respect that the others were showing, he simply held out an arm and smirked. The woman stared at his arm first, then him, back to his arm, then back to him. Finally making up her mind on what to do, she lifted her chin and, smiling, took it. 

And just as quickly as he was there, Gurjin wasn't. He was being sucked out of the scene and pulled back onto his bedroom floor. There was a second of sucking in air to regain his surroundings, dream-etchings were always a little jarring for Gurjin, he liked dream-fasting so that someone could at least guide him through the memory. Scrambling to his feet, he snatched Naia's present out of his pack before barreling across the hall into her room. 

Thank Thra she was clothed. "Gurjin! Knocking! Do they not teach you this at the castle!" She was curled up near the window, staring out at the guards arranging themselves for departure. He winced, he knew that Naia loved her privacy, but it was urgent. 

"Sorry, I'll remember next time," He pretended not to notice her small flinch at that statement. "You're still strong at dream-fasting, right? Like, you do it on accident all the time still." 

"Yes, Gurjin," he noted the annoyance in the way she said his name. So her dream-fasting was still a bit of a sore spot. "I still have issues with accidentally dream-fasting." Most childlings had problems with accidentally dream-fasting, pulling memories out of each other like pulling flowers out of the ground. Most of them learned to control it by eight trine or so, but those with especially powerful abilities always seemed to struggle. Naia was able to ferret out the memories from others with the slightest finger touch without ever meaning to. It was a great source of shame for her. That, and her lack of wings. Gurjin had long learned to not bring up her still-bare back, how her younger sisters had already gotten theirs, that Naia still had the telling nubs of potential wings on her back, but the skin stubbornly refused to break. 

"I didn't mean to- Look at these." He pried open her hand and dumped the beads into her palm. "Father gave them to me." 

Gurjin could tell by the look on her face that she was a little hurt by this. Most of their gifts were shared, starting back from when they were babies. Of course, as childlings, if things weren't gifted equally they would squabble like tree-rats over it. However, as they grew older, they just shared gifts with each other. It was just how things were between them. Whether Naia wanted to comment on the fact that he'd received a gift, Gurjin wouldn't know, she just shifted her gaze to the beads. 

"These are really powerfully dream-etched." Naia breathed the words like a prayer. "They're beautiful." 

"I think it's Father's." He pointed to the bead he'd looked at earlier. "Try this one." 

Naia quickly sat at her stool and held the indicated bead gently to her eyes. In an instant, she was gone. Gurjin watched her dark eyes glaze over and her mouth gently drop open. He wondered if she ever drooled with her mouth open like that, but before he could pursue the line of thought too much, her eyes snapped back to reality and she stood. So fast, actually, that the stool fell over with a clatter. "These are Father's memories! Of Mother!" 

"Wait, how come you knew that and I didn't?" Gurjin hadn't ever felt more stupid in his life. Of course. Bellanji had been Laesid's personal guard before competing to show his strength. The competition was just a formality, a kind of show of power for the Maudra to pick her favorite. Gurjin had just assumed it was his father's performance that won Laesid over, he hadn't considered their prior history much. 

"Maybe all that time in the castle is rotting your brains into berry juice!" Naia pushed his head a little, laughing. "It's not my fault that I'm the smart one." 

"Now you're just being mean!" He threw a playful punch at her shoulder. Normally, this would start an all-out brawl between the two, until one surrendered or was otherwise incapacitated, but there wasn't enough time for an epic battle of strength and otherwise legendary displays of sibling rivalry. 

Naia rolled her eyes and looked at the other beads. "So, what did you come in here for? To gloat about your present?" 

"Almost," Gurjin grabbed the stool and planted himself on it. "I wanted you to put them in for me." 

"Really? You're almost grown! Put them in yourself!" Exasperation crept into her voice. Ever since Gurjin was old enough that Laesid refused to touch his hair any longer, he begged Naia to be the one to bead and braid it. His little sisters were the only ones with enough patience to handle putting ribbons or feathers or other decorations in it, but Naia could usually be relied on for beads. He hated to admit it, but he loved his sister's ability to braid the straggling hairs that managed to avoid joining the mane of dreadlocks he wore. She never failed to be gentle on him when she worked with his hair. Even if he could take the tugging from other people, the gesture was appreciated. 

"Please? I can't reach where I want them!" He pulled his hair over his shoulder and pointed to the back of his neck. 

"You want to hide them!?" 

"It just feels more . . . private that way." He shifted uncomfortably. Other guards would brag about family heirlooms and endlessly prattled on about lineage. Gurjin burned for that ability to gloat with his friend but, now that he had the chance, it felt wrong. This was his father's memories. They seemed far too personal and private to just let everyone see him wear. Gurjin wanted to keep them close and safe, in a place that no one would think to look. 

Naia sighed and dragged his stool closer to her hammock. So she had gotten stronger. Last time Gurjin visited she couldn't even push his chair in if he sat in it. Now here she was, dragging him on a stool, granted it took a few strong pulls to get started and they both hear the complaints of the wood. Gurjin was more than sure that one of the supports in the stool was cracked. Naia crawled up into her hammock behind him and, legs dangling above the floor, she started carefully putting them in. Without saying anything, she put them as close to the base of his neck as she could, something inside her understood what he meant. The memory she saw felt so personal, it wasn't meant for anyone outside of their family to see. 

"I came in here for another reason too, I swear." Gurjin chuckled and held open her present, still wrapped in the thick canvas he'd purchased in Sami Thicket on the way over. 

"Don't talk to me until I'm done." 

"Don't you want to know what I brought for you? All the way from the castle? I had to win it you know." He waited for a response, got none, and continued. "There was a great big bet going on, see, I saw this and thought of how good it'd look on my belt. Then I thought to myself 'My sister Naia, surely she'd want something like this more than me.' And in my kind-heartedness, I tackled the guy who owned it." Naia snorted a little and held back a laugh. "I challenged him for it after the tackle and he seemed really happy to hand it over." 

"So you stole it?" Naia couldn't help but laugh a little. 

"No! I challenged him for it, and I won. Can a full-grown gelfling not win his sister a prize for fun without having his methods challenged?" 

"You're no more full-grown than a Nebrie is a good runner." Naia finished and slid off the hammock. "Can I at least see it?" 

"No! I wrapped it for you and everything! You need to appreciate the packaging first." He tossed her the canvas lump, tied tight with a black cord from the castle. 

Catching it with one hand, she turned it over in her hands, trying to guess at what resided in the oddly shaped lump. "Is it . . . another bola?" 

Gurjin grinned ear to ear, harder than he did last night. "You can open it now." Naia made quick work of the packaging, his ears pricked up, waiting for her reaction. 

"What is . . . ?" She threw herself into her brother's arms before he had a chance to react. "Thank you!" Her laughter and joy filled the room better than any kind of sunlight. Naia pulled away as fast as she hugged him and held the present up to the light. 

The holster for the dagger was black, deep black, carved with the trademark images of the castle and the Crystal of Truth shining at the top. Inside was a polished steel dagger. When she pulled the blade out, it caught the sunlight and glinted like a jewel. "It's beautiful! It's perfect! It fits so well in my hand and-" Without trying to finish, she gave it a few experimental swings and squealed in delight. "Thank you Gurjin! No one ever has these kinds of things here!" It was true. Metal was very uncommon in the swamps of Sog and, if it was found, the Drenchen had no refinement or process to create something from it. But worked metal, the kind that Stonewood gelfling were able to use, especially their creations, were highly prized in Drenchen society. Though, they had little use. No one in their right mind would use a knife or dagger made from metal in case they dropped it, the swamp would drag it down under the mud in seconds. Gurjin could already tell that the dagger might have a permanent life on Naia's shelf, but then again, she was crafty. He knew that, eventually, she'd need it. 

There was a pause before the two hugged again. It was warm and soft, more tender than usual. The two gripped each other tightly like they would never see each other again. Naia dropped the knife onto her hammock and gripped his tunic in her fists. "You're really going away again. You're going away for such a long time, I'll be alone again." 

"You won't be alone. You'll have Mother and Father and our sisters and literally every Drenchen here." He knew that wasn't what she meant. 

"You're my twin. You're the half of me that I can't take back. It feels like I'm all alone without you here." Naia felt a pang in her throat. Her voice cracked. "You'll be away for a few trines again, won't you?" 

Gurjin felt his own voice crack. He couldn't lie to her, even though he wanted to. "Yeah, yeah I will. But I'll come back. And then I'll stay longer at that time since I have to go early this time. I'll be back before you notice it though, you won't even miss me." 

"I hate you." 

"Because I'm right?" 

"Because you're so wrong." 

Naia wasn't outside with Gurjin while he got ready to leave. She was in her room, watching from the window. This was the same thing she did when he'd left to travel to the castle. He craned his neck and saw her face, almost pressed on the glass, the dagger clutched in her hands. If Gurjin knew how he would have dream-etched something important into the blade, he watched other gelfling dream-etch into presents for their families. Their fingers glowing white, sweat dripping down their faces, as they imprinted every inch of memory into whatever trinket they were working on. Gurjin cursed himself for not having enough money to pay one to dream-etch the castle's moat into the blade. Naia would love the water. Cold and dark like glass, but it was surprisingly fun to swim in. 

Laesid emerged last. Her traveling pack was slung over her shoulder, wings standing proud and tall, stretching and flexing as she walked to join her small congregation. Gurjin looked out towards the swamp and back to his mother. Her missing leg would surely complicate things, the swamp required the Drenchen to pull their legs out of the mud and navigate freely, it wasn't exactly conducive to an elder with one leg and a cane. 

He noticed a few of the guards carrying over a chair placed on a smooth wooden platform and lowering it to the ground. He'd never seen his mother sit in that particular chair before. Whenever Laesid needed to navigate the swamp surrounding the Great Smerth she'd use the raised and dried dirt paths, but she wasn't walking around her home on this particular trip. 

As if on cue, Bellanji strode up to her, confident as ever, and offered out his arm. The wrinkles around his eyes made the sparkle seem brighter when he looked at Laesid, his graying dreads were pulled back in a warrior's knot and, even though he wasn't going to make the journey with them, he wore a guard's tunic. No hesitation, Laesid took it. No longer wearing decorated tunics, her dress hovered above her ankles, but Gurjin could still make out swamp flowers and birds embroidered on the bottom. He rushed forward to help his mother into the chair, taking her cane for her as Bellanji knelt next to her. Gurjin held his mother's cane and watched the two. No words were spoken, but they clasped each other's shoulders tight, closed their eyes, and touched their foreheads together. Were they dream-fasting? The way Laesid's mouth fell open suggested so. 

When they were done, Bellanji whispered something to her, something Gurjin couldn't quite pick up, but it made Laesid's ears flutter and her teeth flashed in her smile. A moment later the two were laughing and blinking like lovesick childlings, Gurjin had to hold back the urge to vomit. When his parents finally parted, four guards picked up the palanquin poles and hoisted Maudra Laesid up to make the journey. Gurjin had to admit, his mother looked every bit of regal that she had in the memory. She still held her chin up and looked forward, only glancing down to share some kind of unspoken joke with Bellanji, who chuckled hard before pulling the cane out of Gurjin's hands and presenting it to Laesid. 

"Well, I suppose I've wasted enough of our time!" Laesid cleared her throat nodded. "That's enough of that! Onward! The Landstriders will meet us at the border." As the party moved forward, almost quickly pressing into the swamp, Gurjin held back. He took in the great tree of his home. He caught Naia leaning out of her window, hand waving wildly. 

"IF YOU DON'T COME BACK FAST ENOUGH I'M COMING TO YOU!" 

Gurjin smiled. There wasn't anything good enough to say back, his father laughed and rolled his eyes. "If you don't catch up, you'll be left behind, Son." 

Gurjin raised his arm and waved it back wildly, his smile was stretched so tight his throat hurt. His eyes skipped over the other gelfling as they waved back and shouted well-wished to the party and him on their journey. Their homes carved into the trees, the way the light hit the pools of water, the moss that grew over most everything, the ordered chaos of Smerth and its people. Remembering his father's words, Gurjin turned on his heel and jogged to catch up with the traveling party. He didn't look back.


	3. Chapter 3

"No. I'm not doing this." Gurjin gripped the reigns on his landstrider tightly, his knuckles paling. "Mother, please. I've done everything you've asked but this is-"

"Pah! Don't be a childling, Gurjin!" Maudra Laesid tossed her locks behind her shoulders and rolled her eyes. "I've been doing this for every summon to Ha'rar. If I can do this, so can you!" As much as he wanted to believe his mother, even the most trained guards were looking a little weary.

The small party stared at the expansive lake that stood between them and Ha'rar. It was, quite possibly, the most interesting body of water they'd seen. That might be due to the case that "water" wasn't the appropriate term for it. It was iced over and covered in powdery snow. Gurjin found it astonishing that green grass and some hearty white flowers were poking out from the banks of snow surrounding the lake. In his opinion, it should be impossible to grow anything in weather so cold. They were so close to Ha'rar, Gurjin could see the Citadel, waiting for him and his small party to arrive. To "officially begin things" as his mother put it. But the lake posed a small problem. What if the ice broke? They could make out the scratch marks of the Skeksis carriages, as well as many prints and indents left from landstriders before them. This did little to soothe their fears. Even if they had gills to keep them breathing under the solid ice cap, if a Drenchen got too cold they would surely die. 

Throughout the entire journey, Gurjin held his tongue. When they reached the edge of the Swamps of Sog and left his mother's palanquin behind, he ignored the sharp rocks and coarse dirt that caked the soles of his feet as they walked to the Spriton tamers. They were a large family, two parents and almost ten children between them. Maudra Laesid had sent a runner to tell them of their requirements, which they seemed more than happy to oblige. The eldest child, a boy just a bit older than Gurjin, explained the basics of riding. The landstriders were very well trained and were selected for the more inexperienced riders among them. Gurjin couldn't help but note the hints of superiority the boy held in his tone. 

Of course, the Spriton were as hospitable as they were generous, and the family had insisted that the group take at least the morning to rest. While it was interesting to see all the landstriders roaming around the plains, coming when called, it was painful to walk around. The rocks made some painful jabs into Gurjin's heels and toes, cracking the skin and leaving slightly pink footprints as he went. He wasn't alone; the other guards all sported a bit of a limp the more the day wore on. Of course, their hosts had taken notice and sent their youngest to fetch them all shoes. While Gurjin was at least slightly familiar with shoes, having needed them once or twice traveling to and from the castle, he felt a pang of embarrassment for his fellow guards as they struggled with the tiny leather laces, forcing their feet into the soft material. It was even more embarrassing when the youngest of the daughters rushed to help them, their voices like disapproving mothers. It was even worse when the mother insisted on helping Maudra Laesid. Laesid didn't fight back too hard, she simply asked the woman to stop, but she paid her no heed. The gelfling knelt next to Laesid with a kind of knowing smile, raising her skirts to reveal her foot. Singular. The woman apologized, obviously, quickly backing away. She was only trying to help, she explained. If she had known she would have never! Laesid insisted they leave soon after. 

After hoisting themselves into their saddles, Gurjin helping his mother into hers, they left quickly. "Typical," Gurjin thought to himself. "Spritons never know how to keep their noses out of anyone else's business." 

Once they were well into the woods, they finally noticed how their side saddles were packed to the brim. And with food! The tension of the awkward morning seemed to lift ever so slightly while they set up camp. Nothing fancy, as Laesid insisted that they leave as soon as the first sun rose in the sky. Camp merely included a fire and the cloaks they'd brought for the cold Vapran weather. Gurjin felt a little more than self-conscious when his mother produced a second one for him, muttering that she knew he'd forget something. The food the Spriton had packed for them certainly was meant for traveling. Jerkies made from some kind of bird, roasted nuts, and dried berries made up a large portion of the meal. One of the guards invited Gurjin out for a quick hunt to see if anything in the forest was palatable, and Gurjin became ever grateful to his friend Rian, who had spoken so much of the woods that Gurjin could identify a few animals that Rian mentioned. 

Laesid was grateful for the fresh meat but insisted that the portions were divided up evenly, even though the unspoken agreement was that she should get the choice cuts. Her stubbornness was ever legendary and seemed to be the only consistent mood through their journey. The guards seemed to vacillate between excitement (the Vapran festivals were the stuff of song-tellers) and homesickness. The Drenchen were, after all, deeply rooted in the swamps. Gurjin had gotten used to being away from the swamps and he felt like making a home wherever he went went was becoming a new skill. In contrast, the other guards majoritively hadn't left the swamp, and in some cases, even the Great Smirth. Through the journey, Laesid was their rock, reminding them it would only be a few days, a week at most, and then they'd be able to go home. Give the shoes and landstriders back to the Spriton family and be done with it. The guards took great pleasure in planning exactly which way returning the shoes would be best. 

Every day seemed to be the same: wake up with the first sun, put out the fire and pack up their scarce camp, follow the Dark River through the forest until the suns set, set up camp, and start all over again. A few days of the grueling schedule put everyone on edge. It didn't help that they were gathering new layers of dirt and grime that weren't exactly familiar. Far be it from any Drenchen to comment on anyone's appearance when it came to dirt, but at least in the swamps, they knew what kind of grime it would be. It was predictable, not like the different types of dirt and dried leaves that slowly but surely built into their skin and hair. 

Things got colder the farther north they traveled. The cloaks became necessary to wear during the day as well as the night. The fires needed to be bigger, which became a slight struggle given how the forest was starting to thin the closer they got to the mountains. The Drenchen didn't cut down trees as it was unnatural to them, so all of their firewood and kindling had to be found. Finally, Maudra Laesid said they were upon the last day of travel. However, this also meant everyone needed to bathe. 

It made sense, Gurjin figured. They were arriving to Ha'rar, to the Citadel, as representatives of their clan. This didn't make the cold river feel any better. It was just as cold as the water that made up the moat near the Castle of the Crystal, but it still made him a little grumpy to bathe in. Everyone seemed to be a little short-tempered after their quick and freezing cleanse. They shivered under cloaks next to a fire while their uniforms dried, seeing as Laesid had also insisted that those get a good scrubbing as well. They took turns of course, allowing everyone their privacy, especially their Maudra. But as the group slid on their leather armor and carefully strapped their weapons into place, Gurjin had to admit this would be a better impression than showing up caked in dirt with leaves and twigs in their hair. Laesid even allowed them some extra time to pull their hair back into complicated knots, if their dreadlocks and braids allowed it, or at least time to gather their bearings. When asked why this was necessary, she simply glared at the mountains and scoffed. The negativity had started to seep into her attitude as well. 

They had endured everything, every minor and major inconvenience throughout the journey, but the group all seemed to agree that the frozen lake was a line they weren't ready to cross. Maudra Laesid shot a look at the rest of her party. "Well, are you going to stop me?" 

A smaller guard, probably the youngest of them all, perked up her ears. "I'm sorry Maudra, but what does that mean?" 

"Are any of you going to stop me?" She repeated the question and rolled her shoulders, a few pops erupting from her joints. No one knew how to respond. "Well, if that's it then," Laesid clicked her tongue and urged the landstrider forward at a sprint. 

The group stared in awe for a moment before realizing what she had done. Gurjin was the first to react. "Mother, wait!" That seemed to be all the encouragement the other guards needed, as they all spurred their landstriders forward to match her speed. Gurjin caught up with his mother first, keeping her pace, turning to face her. "Are you insane?" 

"Perhaps! Insanity is a good friend of old-age after all!" She smiled a little. "And I'll be damned if my clan seems like a bunch of ninnies to the Vapra, of all the clans!" Gurjin nodded, a little impressed. At least her logic wasn't flawed. 

They slowed down as soon as they got close to the city, it was clear that they were the last to arrive. Colorful banners were streaking from building to building, flags were proudly flying on every available surface, the flowers in Ha'rar seemed to stand taller than any other flower he'd seen. Were the Vaprans so uptight that even their flowers had good posture? Gurjin shifted and pulled his cloak a little tighter around his shoulders. How could any gelfling live like this? The air was so thin and cold, he could feel his gills drying with every inhale. The winding road towards the Citadel was loaded with gelfling, almost all of them Vapran. 

Mira was the only Vapran guard he knew. As far as Gurjin was concerned, the skilled fighters in the Vapra clan kept close to the All-Maudra as paladins. He'd have to ask Mira why she would even bother becoming a castle guard. He was a little surprised though. Every Vapran looked so delicate. Everything about them looked so breakable and wispy, like a cloud made of glass. Even their wings were so thin and iridescent, Gurjin had to stare carefully to make sure he didn't hallucinate them. The disapproving looks told him to stop this very quickly. It was surprising; these gelfling were nothing like Mira. They were so hard and angled out, their eyes looked so cold and sharp. Mira was so full of life, always asking him for help on a prank, sharing a joke, or trying to drink him under the table during the weekends. He couldn't help but think that these Vapra all looked like angry ghosts, the kind his father used to tell him about as a child to scare him, despite the fact most of them probably couldn't even reach his shoulders in height. They all seemed to look down on him, even though he was sitting on the tallest creature in Ha'rar. 

The farther into the city they got, the livelier things became. They could all smell the spiced meats cooking from vending stalls, see the different dancers lining the street for performances, and all the different gelfling. They truly were the last clan to arrive. Gurjin could make out the brown attire of several Spriton warriors and even a few greens from what he hoped were Stonewood soldiers. He watched the Sifan dancers, pulling gelfling from the street to join massive dances breaking out at random, the occasional Stonewood or Spriton merchant with a small booth. At one point he could have sworn he'd seen the painted face of a Dousan, but the face disappeared as quickly as he'd spotted it. He couldn't help but grin, even if it belonged to the stiffest clan Thra could ever conjure, the capital was full of life. The music from the streets blended into one melody, even though he thought they could use more drums. There was something new to look at every time he turned his head, a new smell, a new sound. The shouts of merchants, singing, music, so much life everywhere. Not even the castle was this lively on holidays. 

Carefully picking their way through the crowd, letting gelfling move away to avoid being stepped on by the huge beasts, they slowly made their way to the Citadel. The curved metal gate was heavily guarded by paladins in their watery blue flowing robes. Gurjin wondered where their armor was, or if they had any at all. He noticed that Vapran clothes had the miraculous ability to look both light and thin, while also being some of the most overly modest he'd ever seen. He wondered why the gates needed so much protection. Who would want to stay in some stuffy castle when they had all the life outside on the streets? He was itching to run out into the city and explore, to get his hands on some hot food he didn't have to catch himself. 

They dismounted outside the gates, the metal complaining a little as paladins pulled it open. A delegation was already waiting for them, two diplomats or aristocrats it seemed. More paladins seemed to materialize and take their landstriders. "We have pens for them, Maudra, they'll be well taken care of," he swallowed as he helped Laesid from her saddle. Was Gurjin dreaming, or did the paladin wrinkle his nose at her? 

"Well, thank Thra for that." Laesid gave Gurjin a pointed look, expecting him to join her at the front of their delegation. He nodded and quickly filed into place, the guards behind them following suit, creating two uniform lines. 

They waited patiently for the delegation to arrive. They seemed to walk remarkably slow, but perhaps it was just their smaller legs. It was two gelfling, a man and a woman, four paladins walking purposefully behind them. "Maudra Laesid!" The woman stretched her lips into a smile, her gossamer wings stretching out behind her and her gaudy dress. "I'm so pleased you made it!" Despite her words, something in her tone made Gurjin think that maybe they weren't as welcome as it seemed. "Really, the journey must be so difficult on you! What with your," her words trailed off as she made a pointed look to Laesid's skirts. "Well, in any event, we've been preparing for you! We've readied the usual rooms for you and your guards if you'd like to see them. You made it just in time for our luncheon!" 

Gurjin couldn't help it. He leaned over to her ear and whispered, "Mother, who exactly are these people?" The Vapran woman's neck snapped to look at him, processing his words. 

"Oh! You brought," She trailed off again, scanning Gurjin up and down. If this kept up Gurjin felt like he was going to explode. "Your son? Yes. I'm Lady Nyrn, official Coordinator of Citadel Decoration." Someone needed to be in charge of decorations? Nyrn tossed her overly curled hair and held out her hand expectantly, staring at him with wide gray eyes. Gurjin looked at his mother uncomfortably. What was she expecting exactly? Laesid didn't even bother to look in his direction. The situation was becoming more awkward by the second. He acted on impulse, took her hand, and kissed the top. That seemed good enough. "This is Sir Listar, my husband." 

"It's a pleasure," Gurjin choked out. Without saying anything, Sir Listar's glare was enough for Gurjin to understand exactly how he felt about Gurjin kissing his wife's hand. "Truly, we've all been looking forward to arriving for quite some time now." Laesid smiled, her son was playing the diplomat the way she'd hoped he would. Even if he was a bit of an idiot, he knew how to handle himself if put in the right situation.

"Well aren't you quite the charmer!? Listar! Don't you think he's just the most charming Drenchen we've met? I mean, it's not like we have a large selection. You hardly come when invited, Maudra Laesid! I always love when you arrive, you know? It's just so important to the All-Maudra that we keep up good relationships with the clans. Even our southernmost brothers and sisters deserve our love and attention, that's what I always say!" As she prattled on, she turned on her heels and walked away, Listar and their paladins following. Maudra Laesid took this as her cue to lead the group forward. 

What followed felt like the longest hour of Gurjin's life. Lady Nyrn seemed determined to walk them through every room the Citadel could offer, describing everything from the floor tiles to the curtains, almost obsessively going on about the price and the various Skeksis gifts that decorated the hallways. Maudra Laesid's ability to fake a smile and nod approvingly with everything this little wisp of a gelfling was saying was impressive. Occasionally Nyrn would sneak in a stinging remark such as, "I just know that you'd appreciate this, coming from that great smelly swamp of yours!" He noticed that some of the Drenchen guards were a little less accommodating than their Maudra. Their ears were twitching in annoyance and pushing back, displeasure growing on their faces with every footstep. It was a blessing when they finally reached the guard's quarters. Apparently, much like in the castle, their rooms would be sequestered from the upper levels yet close enough to aid if necessary. The guards from the other clans were in these rooms as well, Lady Nyrn informed them, and it was simply such a good way to encourage good communications between the clans. Gurjin pretended not to hear their sighs of relief when the door shut while he and his mother continued to shuffle behind Nyrn and her husband. 

As they perused the halls, Gurjin became acutely aware of the soreness throughout his back. He wasn't aware of it until then, but his back had been painfully straight since entering the gates of the Citadel. In addition, the deeper into the Citadel they walked, the warmer the air became. This only added to his discomfort. Soon he had taken off his cloak and was hoping a window would be open in whatever room the long-winded lady and her husband decided to show off next. Fortunately, the next room was his own. "We hope that it's alright, we didn't know that you'd be coming! Though, we always leave a few rooms ready just in case someone shows up! We like to think that the Citadel is ready for any and all kinds of visitors! Isn't that right, dear?" Her pause lasted less than a second. Sir Listar just nodded with a knowing and slightly threatening smile. "Of course that's right. Maudra? It might please you to know that you'll be in your usual room, close to the other Maudras. Just down the hallway. Oh! You aren't here as often, perhaps you don't remember? Don't fret you, absolute darling! I'll show you to it! You'll simply adore what we've done with the bedsheets!" Gurjin quickly closed the door behind him as quietly as possible and waited for the sound of the Vapran's shrill voice to go away before taking in his accommodations. 

The room was spacious and large, much larger than necessary, he thought. He was sure it was because of his station as a Maudra's son that he got such a large room to begin with. The walls were a light shade of pastel blue, and when he squinted, he could make out unamoths painted in a lighter shade of blue. They'd be easy to miss if they weren't the only decorations on the walls. It was nice to not have fancy baubles dripping down from the ceiling. He dropped his bag by the large four-poster bed, circled by a thin see-through curtain. The same fabric made up curtains by the window. How exactly were those drapes going to keep out the sun's light? The window attracted his attention. The metal panes made the same sweeping and curved shapes of the Citadel's opening gate. This made the window look oddly similar to the gossamer wings of the Vapra. With a gentle push, one of the panes spun and cold air came rushing in. It was almost comforting, but the cold suddenly overtook him and he pulled the window back into place. 

Everything here was so extreme. Too hot. Too cold. Overdressed aristocrats. Underdressed Drenchen. Too much space for a bedroom. Too little space to explore and wander around. Was he allowed to wander? He figured not. With the way the halls were practically clear of any gelfling other than the arriving Drenchen party and the occasional paladin, it felt wrong to go off by himself and get a good look around. What was there to do? There weren't any books in this room, not that he knew how to read. He supposed he could unpack, noticing a gray wooden chest of drawers placed near the bed. On top was a small glass vase with water and a single white flower proudly displayed. With the small number of clothes he brought, unpacking felt almost like a waste of time. But he did it anyway, as something to do. 

Eventually, he found a personal washroom. A room just slightly smaller than the one with his bed, lavishly coated in marble with gold accents. A water-pump from the wall led to a tub that looked like it might be luxurious for a regular-sized gelfling, but Gurjin was a great deal larger than most. A mirror with gold rims was hung on the wall in front of what Gurjin supposed was a vanity table, stocked with bowls and jars of funny-smelling oils and pastes. He decided to leave most of the jars alone and try the pump. 

Almost immediately, warm water shot out of the spigot and into the bathtub. He allowed some time for the basin to fill before touching the surface. It was too hot, way too hot. He supposed that it would feel nice to sink into a pool of this kind of water, especially if the air outside was the everyday climate, but this just felt shocking. He didn't want to waste the water. Clearly some work had to be put into the creation of the water system, but at its current temperature, he might have run the risk of hurting his gills. "Okay, just take a breath. This might be a good thing. Change of pace, meet new people. Go out on the town for a little bit! Yeah, just have to adjust." He decided to let the water cool for a bit, leaving the washroom door open and propping the window to get some air circulation. 

While he waited, he figured it couldn't hurt to do a quick dreamfast. He located a padded seat tucked away in one of the corners of the room, but it groaned and creaked under his weight. He looked at the four-poster bed, but it felt a little early to be risking the nap he'd surely take if he got too comfortable. "I guess the floor will have to do." Gurjin sunk down and laid his head against the wall, snaking his hands up to the base of his neck. 

Now, if Naia had put them in the way he wanted, the second bead should be just to the right of the first. He took a deep breath and relaxed, pinched the bead, and allowed himself to sink into his father's next memory.


	4. Chapter 4

It was just outside Sami Thicket. The air was warm and blowing pleasantly across the tall grass of the Spriton plains. Gurjin had to squint to block out the light of the three suns. When he did, he saw his mother again. Younger, in leather armor, standing on a landstrider's back with her wings beating wildly in an effort to keep herself steady. Her dreadlocks were flying behind her and her hands were struggling to load what looked like a bola. Gurjin had to stifle a laugh; she looked exactly like Naia when she was trying something new. But as the landstrider picked up speed, the ride became less and less stable. He could see Laesid's wings beating against the wind rather pathetically. Drenchen wings were made for the water, darker and thicker than the average wing. To use them outside of the water for anything other than intimidation was useless.

"Maudra!" Gurjin turned and saw four Drenchen guards tearing across the plains as fast as they could on foot. He noted proudly that his father was by far the fastest, leading the pack. "Sit down! Slow down! Just stop!"

"Don't worry! I can - I can do this!" As soon as the words left her, her concentration was lost. Laesid's footing slipped; she quickly toppled down into a heap under the animal's feet. The landstrider, though a gentle beast, was still a great deal bigger than Laesid. It felt her weight leave its back and turned in circles in an effort to locate her again. This left Laesid rather trapped, dogging the stabbing hooves of the beast. While the landstrider wasn't running anymore, it was certainly getting in the way of Laesid's escape, whether it meant to or not.

Bellanji was the first to arrive. Gurjin could see the panic imprinted in his father's eyes; the same panic Bellanji had worn when Gurjin's younger sisters were born. His father stopped running long enough to assess the situation and without thinking twice about his decision, loaded a bola. He swung it twice over his head before launching the stone at the landstrider's flank, where the skin was the toughest. The blow landed perfectly, distracting the landstrider long enough for Bellanji to sprint over to Laesid and pull her away from the confused animal, throwing his body on top of her. A Spriton called the beast back with a three-toned whistle. Bellanji refused to move. 

They remained there for a moment, Bellanji’s muscles tense. He watched as the landstrider happily trotted back to its tamer, trilling warmly as if it hadn't almost impaled the Drenchen Maudra. He didn't relax his hold on Laesid until the other guards arrived, with awkward glances exchanged between all of them. Once the two were standing, Laesid rolled her shoulders back and casually checked her bola for damage. Bellanji looked like he was about to explode. "What were you thinking?" 

"I wanted to see how far I could throw a bola from the top of a landstrider." She didn't even look up or give an excuse. Gurjin was impressed; his mother was a master of hard-talk, even when she was young. 

Bellanji stuttered, all the words he wanted to say were coming out all at once, tripping over themselves and becoming gibberish. His eyes scanned her body for any injury before he found his tongue. "Your wing!" 

Her wing had indeed sustained damage. It wasn't the worst wing injury Gurjin had seen, but it did look brutal. The top of her left wing was badly torn, dangling from the snapped sinew, flattened from where the landstrider must have stepped on it. Pink blood was already bubbling to the surface and forming small rivulets down the dark surface. "It doesn't hurt." Maudra Laesid quickly attached the bola back onto her belt and met Bellanji's gaze. "I chose to stand on the landstrider, I knew the risks." 

"Clearly, you didn't! You could've been impaled! Do you understand that?" 

"Yes." Laesid clearly wasn't upset about the situation. She carried herself with her trademark stubbornness and innate grace she always had. 

"Then why did you do it in the first place? Do you realize how incompetent this -" The other guards bit back soft, audible gasps. Bellanji stopped; he was going too far. Even in this situation, this wasn't how a guard spoke to their Maudra. 

Hurt shone across her face like a slap. As fast as it registered in her eyes, she buried it. "I suppose you're right, Bellanji. I should have thought more about my actions." A heavy silence fell over the small group. The other guards stood awkwardly, exchanging glances and swallowing uncomfortably. 

"Well uh . . . we'll be waiting for you by the tamer's hut, Maudra." One of the guards nodded in her direction before gesturing wildly for the other guards to join him. They quickly retreated, leaving Laesid and Bellanji to stare at each other.

The silence continued until the other guards were well out of earshot. "I'm so sorry, Maudra Laesid, I didn't mean to imply that you were -" Laesid held up a hand to silence him. 

"Don't apologize when you're in the right. I shouldn't have done it. It was reckless of me." Laesid took a breath. "I am sorry, Bellanji, for making you worry like that." She crossed her arms and looked across the plain to more experienced Spriton riders in the distance, playing some kind of complicated game on top of their landstriders. "It was arrogant of me to assume that I would be able to . . ." She trailed off, seemingly transfixed by the image of the Spritons and their game. 

"No! It's not arrogant! You just went too fast is all." Bellanji took her hand without a second thought. "It was a little impressive, actually." 

"Was it?" Laesid looked back to Bellanji, her eyes sparkling with something Gurjin couldn't recognize. The composed and perfect mask of the young orphan Maudra slipped for a moment. She was just a youngling, a young gelfling that wanted to enjoy everything life could offer outside of the political world. "Are you just saying that because I'm your Maudra?" 

"No," Bellanji chuckled and rubbed the top of her hand with his thumbs. "Really, it was impressive. I don't think I've ever seen a Drench try to stand on a landstrider like that, sprinting no less. Trying to load a bola?" He shook his head. "Really you could have at least loaded it before taking off." 

Laesid giggled and squeezed his hands. "I suppose that would have been wiser." 

"Now, if you'd be so inclined, can I please take you back to the tamer's hut? You need to get that wing looked at."

"It really doesn't' hurt." 

"I believe you!" Bellanji laughed a little, gently and playfully pulling her arm towards the hut. "But what kind of guard would I be if I didn't take care of my Maudra? Can't let her show up to Ha'rar with a torn up wing." 

"Thank you, Bellanji." As his mother's voice faded, Gurjin felt the memory being pulled away from him. The images twisted and blurred into obscurity and his father's name echoed as he fell back into reality. 

Looking at the large room, Gurjin sat up from his place on the floor and stretched. His back popped in complaint as he did. "Okay, never do that on the floor again, got it." He muttered. The place was so silent, he had to fill the air with something. How long had he been on the floor? The memory was longer this time, maybe he'd spent longer than he'd wanted to inside of it. The room looked undisturbed, and an intruder would have surely pulled him from the dreamfast. 

He closed the window before making his way back to the decadent bathroom. Could the Vapra do anything without making it overly-luxurious? He was used to the metal bathtubs at the castle, or even the moat on warmer days, but this? This was a little sad. He dipped his hand into the water. It had cooled enough to be at least a little enjoyable. It took some searching, but he located a towel in one of the many drawers of the vanity table and was finally able to get into his bath. 

The water was just what his gills needed. Something that wasn't thin, cold, dry air. The warmth felt perfect on the slightly agitated flesh. In fact, the water did feel rather nice on his skin. When he tried to sink farther into it, however, he realized the tub was simply too small, and his legs had to dangle over the edge to compensate for the new position. Vaguely irritated, he shifted again, but if he wanted his legs in the water he had to sit up and remove his gills from it. Defeated, Gurjin sighed and settled for letting his legs dangle out, deciding that his gills needed the water more than his feet. 

Once his gills felt good enough that they could brave the chilled air again, Gurjin clambered out of the bath and toweled himself dry. He stared at the bathtub and the water it contained. Had he really been that dirty? Even with his dip in the river earlier, the water had a film of dirt floating on top. How exactly was he supposed to drain it? Where did the water go once it was drained? He submerged his hand into the tub and felt around for some kind of plug to drain it. 

Once that task was successfully completed, he carefully pulled his clothes back on. Just as he'd managed to get his belt tied into place, three sharp knocks bit into his ears. "Prin - " Whoever was on the other side of the door was unsuccessfully trying to stifle a laugh at whatever title she'd just tried to give him. "Gurjin? Dear? It's Lady Nyrn! I wanted to see if everything was sitting well with you!" She didn't wait for him to open the door for her, she burst in with her ridiculous dress flouncing around her. It looked like she was wearing a bell made of pink fabric, larger and heavier than the other Vapran dresses Gurjin had seen. Her sleeves were puffed out so large, they were almost as big as her head. 

There were several things he wanted to complain about. The fact that she'd waltzed in without welcome, for one. But there was also the fact that the chair couldn't hold his weight, the size of the bathtub, how hot the water was without a way to change it, the unnecessary size of the room. Thinking on all his complaints, however, it felt wrong to complain about it. Such small things surely couldn't matter, and he didn't want to seem ungrateful. So instead he smiled politely. "It's all wonderful, thank you." 

"Oh, you're so welcome!" Lady Nyrn looked at his clothes and her large eyes darkened. "You didn't change for luncheon?" That was still happening? With the tour and the bath, Gurjin figured that the meal had surely passed in that time. 

"I didn't know that I would be attending -" 

"We postponed with some tea!" She sounded exasperated as if she'd explained this already. "Well, I suppose it can't really be helped." 

"I can change into something else if you'd like." He glanced at the dresser that now held his clothes. He doubted that anything he wore would satisfy this gelfling, but maybe a fresh change of clothes would calm her ever-growing nerves. 

"Oh, I suppose, but please be quick about it! I'll just be right outside the door!" She left quickly, but he couldn't help but notice she hadn't closed the door all the way. Sighing quietly, so Lady Nyrn wouldn't hear him, he shut the door for her. He looked through his clothing options and huffed. If the entirety of Ha'rar was expecting him to dress the way Lady Nyrn did, they would be sorely disappointed. Finding a clean duplicate of his travel-worn tunic and leggings, he changed as quickly as he could, knowing that there was a gelfling who apparently had the habit of bursting into rooms just outside his door. The shoes seemed a little useless at this point, seeing as they were caked in solidified mud anyway. He returned to his dresser and removed two rolls of fabric. Walking to his bed, trying to ignore it's groaning and creaking, he sat and carefully wrapped his feet with the cloth. This usually worked at the castle when he was on duty. Gurjin figured that if it was good enough for the Lords of the Crystal, it'd be good enough for Ha'rar. 

Lady Nyrn didn't even bother to knock this time around, swinging the door open and strolling in. "Are you ready now, dear?" She almost looked disgruntled to see him fully clothed, whether she was disappointed to see they were nearly identical to the clothes he had before or that he was dressed at all was anyone’s guess. "Where are your shoes?" 

Gurjin cinched the final knot of his belt. "Oh, they were really dirty, so I just wrapped my feet. It's what I do when I'm at the castle." Gurjin figured he was being considerate, keeping dirt and dried mud from tracking around the Citadel, but Lady Nyrn wrinkled her nose almost imperceptibly. She forced a sickly-sweet smile on her face and narrowed her eyes a bit. 

"That's right! I forgot that Drenchen's aren't used to shoes. Must be all the mold in the swamps that keep it soft for your feet, hm?" 

"There isn't any mold at -" 

"We really are running late, dear, your mother is expecting you! Let's get a move on, please!" She left the room and gestured for him to follow. Why was the Official Citadel Decorator so involved with handling foreign affairs? Was the lord or lady in charge of it off playing in the streets? Gurjin would have given just about anything for a different gelfling to escort him to the Dining Hall. "Now, this is where everyone will be taking their meals. It's not as nice now as it will be for dinner, mind you! I've selected the perfect tablecloth for tonight, it's just stunning. You know, I bought it myself! I went right to a Sifan merchant and just simply demanded it! He tried to upsell me, you know how tricky those Sifan can be, but I insisted! I told him that it was for the All-Maudra's dinner table, that I could recommend his products to her for future purchases, exposure and all that, and he handed it over. What was his name again? Honestly, I've already forgotten. But it's just the most beautiful tablecloth." Gurjin tried to nod along politely as she blathered on; he was trying to memorize the twists and turns they took to the Dining Hall, hoping he could find his own way after today. 

Eventually, they came upon two magnificent glass doors. The glass panels were held in place by the same swirly metal that Gurjin saw at his window. The glass was thicker here, tinted a deep blue, warping the images of the gelfling inside. "Now, your mother is already inside. I don't think anyone's sat down yet, but I'm sure that you've been prepared for this kind of thing since you're the uh . . . " There was the stifled laugh again. "The prince of your clan." 

Prince? The word felt heavy on Gurjin's shoulders. It was something that he'd been aware of, but it just never mattered. Not like it did now. Growing up, the title was never used to address him. It had never been used this way before, with some kind of weight and meaning. Weight and meaning that Lady Nyrn clearly felt he didn't deserve. It felt a little offensive if Gurjin was entirely honest, and he felt a burning desire to prove he was worthy of the title. He'd never felt that way before, that he needed to somehow prove his value or title to someone before. It felt like a wave of burning anger forming in his chest. He crushed it quickly and stood up a little straighter. "I think I can take it from here, thank you, Lady Nyrn. You've been very helpful." 

The gelfling dismissed herself to whoever else she needed to annoy next, flouncing down the hall. He waited until he could no longer hear the rustle of her skirts or clicks of her footwear before facing the doors. "Okay, you're the prince now. Now it matters," He stopped to correct himself. "Here it matters." He took a deep breath, adjusted his posture, and pushed open the large double doors. 

The Dining Hall was huge, larger than his room by far, with lofted blue ceilings and a shining marble floor. Yellow, green, and blue chrysalises hung from the ceiling, gently clinking together and ringing like tiny bells. They illuminated the already bright space. Sweeping blue and white silk banners were decorating the walls, each bearing the symbol of one of the seven clans. One of the walls was made entirely of glass, showing off the city below and all the festivities Gurjin was missing. A great table took up the center of the room, covered in a pristine white cloth and set with fine china. If ever there was a time for Gurjin to use his confidence, it was now. Aside from the decorations and table, the room was filled with Maudras; he counted five in total. It wasn't hard to locate his mother among them, her dreadlocks and walking cane made her stand out. There were other gelfling there as well, sticking close to their respective Maudras. Gurjin figured that the other Maudras had brought their successors. A few had chosen to bring what he figured were their eldest sons as well. Princes. He directed his course towards his mother. 

"I thought you wouldn't show up. Thought you'd ran off to join the party outside." Maudra Laesid cracked a smile and smacked him on the shoulder. "I'm glad you chose to stay." Gurjin decided not to tell her that he'd been wondering exactly when he'd be allowed to leave the Citadel and go join the party outside. 

"Of course, Mother, wouldn't miss this for the world." His eyes scanned over some of the younger gelfling in the room. The Maudras all looked very refined, with perfect posture and proud expressions, but it was their children that he was more interested in. Specifically, the other three princes in the room: a Spriton, a Sifan, and a Stonewood. All stood with an air of arrogance. They carried themselves with a kind of strength that Gurjin hadn't really seen. The kind that comes with having a useless title, but a title nonetheless. 

"You shouldn't stand next to me for too long, Gurjin. Don't want to seem like a mama’s boy. Come here, let me introduce you to someone. Maudra Fara?" With a rather strong grip, Laesid guided her son to the Stonewood Maudra. Gurjin had met a few Stonewood gelfling while at the castle and they all had a specific feeling to them. Something that came with years of training to fight, protect, and uphold a culture. Gurjin figured he carried a similar kind of air, maybe one specific to the Drenchen clan. But this gelfling was the epitome of Stonewood. She was tall and clearly strong. Her face was as wise and proud as Maudra Laesid's, even if she was blatantly younger. She was wearing a green Stonewood dress, embroidered with intricate patterns and wooden beads. Her head held a small crown, her dark brown locks hanging primarily free around her face, but some strands were pulled back in slender braids. 

"Hello, Gurjin," Maudra Fara gave him a polite bow. "I've heard much about you." 

"I'd like to hope it was all good things." He returned her bow and smiled. 

"Well, I'm sure you'd rather not be speaking with the old bags all day," Gurjin almost choked. He'd never heard someone refer to any Maudra as an old bag. "I'd like to introduce you to someone. Ural! Can I steal you for a moment?" The Stonewood boy walked over, smiling and nodding politely. 

He was tall for a Stonewood, but still about a head shorter than Gurjin. His hair was dark brown, much like all his clan, and was streaked with green; it was tied back behind him in a simple warrior knot. Gurjin could have sworn he'd seen Rian try (and fail) to pull his hair back like that before. Ural was wearing a formal brown tunic embroidered with the same patterns as seen on Maudra Fara's dress. Gurjin noted a sword strapped to his belt, though it looked more decorative than the swords he'd seen at the castle. His eyes were large and friendly, they reminded Gurjin of Rian, just older and possibly more adept at social situations. "Yes, Maudra Fara?" That was certainly formal for addressing who Gurjin assumed was his mother. 

"Ural, this is Gurjin, son of Maudra Laesid." Gurjin gave him a polite nod and held out his hand. Ural quickly shook it and smiled. "I'm sure that you two will get along. As soon as I got the inkling that you'd be bringing your children, Laesid, I decided that they might want gelfling close to their own age. I'm afraid I couldn't find a soldier that was younger and trained enough to make the journey." 

"He isn't your son?" Gurjin looked at Fara with slight disbelief. 

"Oh, Thra! No!" She held back of a laugh. "I don't have any children. Ural is one of my more talented guards. In fact, he has been trained to handle the Vapran court. The Stonewood clan very proud of him." Maudra Fara patted his shoulder. 

"My parents were merchants," Ural explained. "They sold the majority of their wares here in Ha'rar, actually, and I got recruited by the paladins for a while. It was only two trine before I couldn't handle being away from home for so long. But that two trine was about all I needed to learn some of the more formal aspects to this place." 

Maudra Fara was practically beaming. "He's a very fast learner." Gurjin felt a morsel of inadequacy building up inside of him. 

"Gurjin, right?" Ural flashed a friendly smile in his direction. "I think that we’re all about to sit down, they postponed luncheon for quite a while." 

"Luncheon? Right! That." Gurjin tried the new word in his mouth before a Vapran in a plain blue dress rung a silver bell. 

On cue, the Maudras and their respective children and soldiers leisurely made their way to the table. Gurjin kept close to his mother, and Ural seemed more than happy to follow next to him, seemingly intent on making Gurjin his friend. The Maudras all took their seats in time, with one notably empty at the head of the table. Gurjin slid into the severely overstuffed chair next to his mother and stared at the vacant seat. Upon closer inspection, he noted there were four unoccupied seats. The head seat, two to the left of it, and one to the right. "Is that supposed to be . . .?" He leaned closer to Ural. Even if this gelfling felt a little strange to him, Gurjin figured that making at least one friend here would be a good idea. 

"The All-Maudra's seat? Yes, and those other three are for her daughters." Gurjin tried not to be annoyed at how quickly Ural was able to recall this. It was only two trine as a paladin, how much could you actually learn? 

Gurjin quickly realized that the Vapran who rung the bell was a servant, or at least wait staff. Several other gelfling in the same plain uniform were busy pushing carts of steaming hot dishes into the room. Gurjin had to admit that it did smell delicious. There were smells that he couldn't quite identify, but he was substantially hungry and was practically itching to shovel, no, delicately eat a copious amount of hot food. This anticipation was quickly replaced by dread when he looked down at his place setting.

More specifically, there were three plates, each stacked on top of each other, a soup bowl placed on the top of the stack, three forks, four spoons, two knives, and two different goblets at his place setting. If he had thought that the tour around the Citadel with Lady Nyrn was difficult to handle, a Vapran luncheon was nothing short of torture.


	5. Chapter 5

Gurjin’s saving grace was Ural. From the moment the meal began Gurjin could feel anxiety clawing its way into his chest and making a home in his heart. The utensils were laid out in a confusing pattern; there were just so many of them. How was he supposed to know which ones to use? The servers quickly filled their bowls with a creamy, white soup. It was thick, and Gurjin could see some unidentifiable chunks floating within. Even if he couldn’t tell what was in his bowl, it smelled delicious. He stared at his spoons and held back a small whimper. At the Great Smerth, if soups were eaten at all, they were drunk from the bowl. He’d never had to use spoons before moving to the castle, and even then, most guards were alright with Gurjin foregoing the spoon in favor of the fast method of eating. Some of the less uptight guards actually joined him. 

Ural nudged Gurjin with his foot, quickly getting his attention. Without a word, or even glancing in his direction, Ural picked up the larger spoon at the place setting and ate. Was he helping Gurjin? Gujin wasn’t going to look a gift landstrider in the mouth. He waited a moment to observe Ural’s posture before mimicking it and finally beginning to eat. 

The soup was actually very good. It was creamy and piping hot, a little spicy, and the chunks floating around seemed to be some kind of meat. It was chewier than what he’d eaten in the past and he could identify some root vegetables as well. He thought about it for a moment and decided that it tasted the way the ocean near Ha’rar looked. Gurjin wanted to ask what it was, but the table was deathly silent. The only sound was the occasional clink of utensils and the servers moving out of the room. He was used to loud and rowdy meals, even at the castle. There was always talking and bragging, something that everyone was able to engage in, if they had the guts. 

It was Maudra Fara, the Stonewood he’d met earlier, that spoke first. “Ethri, your boat caught these clams, correct? They’re fantastic.” Gurjin had never eaten a clam before. It was salty and chewy, but he liked it. 

The Sifa Maudra, tucking some stray curls behind her pointed ears, smiled. “Yes, Fara. Just a few hours ago, actually.” From there, the conversation evolved organically. The Maudra’s politely commenting on the different sea life that Ethri must encounter, swapping tales about their hometowns, explaining new policies they wanted to enact. Some were even proposing new trade deals, right at the table. Gurjin was amazed, all it took was a small compliment to lift the mood. Now, they were discussing policy, things that would affect their clans and possibly its future, so casually. Gurjin had wondered how decisions about inter-clan trade and laws were created, he just didn’t imagine it would happen at a pristine Vapra table over a soup, which he later learned was affectionately called a chowder. 

Once the soup was over, the servers quickly and quietly cleared away the bowls and began to serve the next course. Gurjin wanted to complain. Why have courses of meals? Just leave the food out on the carts so everyone could eat how they wanted. But he held his tongue and let the thoughts fade away. He needed to respect the Vapra culture, do things their way. Once he was back at the castle, he would binge eat whatever food he needed to feel better. Maybe drink Rian and Mira half to death in some Podling bar. The thought gave him some comfort as the new dishes were sliding onto the topmost plate. 

It was fish now, finally, something he recognized; served on a bed of greens and peppers. It smelled much more decadent than the roast bass he would catch and cook at the Great Smerth. He stared at the utensils and, again, he felt Ural nudge his foot. What was this guy playing at? As casually as possible, Gurjin observed the utensils Ural selected, before copying and eating. 

Most of the meal continued this way, with Gurjin listening to the conversation but never contributing, Ural showing him the right fork to use, his mother nodding along and contributing the much-needed hard-talk. The main topic was trade deals and routes. Maudra Ethri was pushing the Dousan Maudra for a new trade route, but she wouldn’t budge, believing that opening another trade route would somehow reveal the location of the Dousan capital. While their voices never rose above polite speaking, he could tell that Maudra Ethri was getting rather annoyed. Maudra Fara was discussing athletic competitions with the Spriton Maudra, something about how needlepoint wasn’t a sport and that the Spriton Maudra ought to learn to use a bow staff. 

Maudra Laesid flowed through the conversations seamlessly, never fully engaging in one, but having a hand in all of them. She was able to speak on why opening trade routes with the Dousan would be beneficial to the other clans as well, but also on how the Dousan were more secretive of their culture and how that should be respected. She mentioned the benefits of quiet and meditative hobbies, like needlepoint, as well as her preference for physical sports and how she missed participating in them. Gurjin had never seen his mother keep up with conversations like this: it was like dancing. 

Eventually, the conversations turned to their children. Maudra Ethri’s daughter wasn’t old enough to come, so she brought her son, Banti. Banti was just a trine or so younger than Gurjin, with very pleasant and gentle features. His hair was a light shade of brown that, in some lights, looked red, and curled gently. Banti’s eyes were large and green, almost the same as Maudra Ethri’s. Gurjin supposed that some ladies might think him very charming, what with the freckles that dotted his nose and cheeks. He thought Banti looked more like a childling. 

Maudra Seethi, the Dousan, had brought her eldest daughter. A gelfling called Selaya. He noticed that both she and Maudra Seethi had identical paint on their faces, save for the dark purple circling Selaya’s eyes. They were sharp and intense, their bright yellow color standing out against the dark paint on her skin. Whatever her hair looked like, he couldn’t see it, as it was pulled back into a deep blue wrap, jewels and pearls decorating the fabric. 

Maudra Mera had brought her eldest daughter as well as her son. At first glance, Gurjin thought they were twins, just like he and Naia. They had the same tan skin, long black hair, green eyes, and rounded cheeks. Upon closer inspection, Gurjin noticed that the son was taller, stronger as well. Maudra Mera introduced him as Lehn. Gurjin could practically feel the vanity radiating off of him. Lehn had pulled his hair back in a style very similar to Ural, a warrior's knot, but Lehn had taken extra steps to braid and bead his hair and make the style far more decorative. Whenever Gurjin glanced in his direction, Lehn made a rather big show of looking away. 

Ural seemed, out of all the males in the room, the friendliest. He was the oldest of them and was the most willing to open himself up to the group. Questions were thrown his way about being approached by the paladins, his decision to go back to Stone in the Wood, if his parents were still selling their bowl and utensil sets (“Yes, but only locally.”), if he’d been invited to work at the Castle of the Crystal yet. Ural was more than happy to answer the questions as they came, and Gurjin had to admit it was impressive. For a soldier, he certainly acted as a prince would. 

Of course, questions were thrown Gurjin’s way. The more he had to answer, the more uncomfortable he became. “Tell me, Gurjin, you work for the Castle of the Crystal as a guard, correct?” It was Maudra Fara, trying to include him. 

“Yeah, I was drafted into it a few trine ago.” Gurjin watched some of the Maudras look slightly offended. Had he said something wrong? 

“No one gets drafted. It’s a summons, not a draft.” It was Banti. His voice was haughty and a pout settled on his lips. “Don’t you understand the difference?” 

“Well, no.” Gurjin shifted in his seat, wondering if the tightness in his chest was because of the anxiety of not being able to eat properly or the accusatory tone Banti had taken. It really felt like a draft. He wasn’t exactly given a choice to stay in the Great Smerth. He knew it was an honor, but it sent a stab of sadness through him like a spear. The way he saw it, refusing would bring more shame on his clan, he couldn’t risk that. It certainly wasn’t phrased like a choice on the note he was read. “My mother was sent a letter. The Lords required some extra Drenchen, mentioned me specifically, actually.” 

“Really? For the lords to know your name you surely must have done something impressive.” Lehn spoke now, finally meeting Gurjin’s eyes. This didn’t seem to stop Lehn from wrinkling his nose slightly, as if he could see the smells radiating off Gurjin. “What was it? Some contest of strength?” 

“Well, no, not really.” 

“So you must have done some act of heroism then?” 

“No, I didn’t do that either.” 

“So you did nothing? The Lords just magically knew your name? Figured you’d be useful somehow?” Lehn looked eternally smug as if he’d just caught Gurjin in the middle of a lie. 

Maudra Laesid stepped in, quickly. “My son has done many things to attract the Lord’s attention, Lehn. I read his name on the note myself. Surely, you’ve done many things that would inspire your call to the guardship? Or has that note not arrived yet?” Gurjin felt his cheeks heat up. His mother didn’t need to handle Lehn for him, it was embarrassing to be saved in that way. 

Maudra Mera, Lehn’s mother, smiled uncomfortably. “Actually, Lehn has been on a bit of a winning streak, lately. When we host clan competitions he’s usually a crowd favorite. I’ve gotten so many offers for his hand-” 

“Mother, please! No one wants to hear about that!” Gurjin couldn’t tell if Lehn was annoyed with his mother, or if being a brat was just in his nature. If he had taken that tone with Laesid, Gurjin was sure he’d be scrubbing moss and scum off of the trunk of the Great Smerth for at least five unnum. 

And so, the tedious meal continued. Gurjin took to engaging in polite conversation with Ural, who seemed to be the safest to speak with, out of all the other younger gelfling at the table. He continued to tolerate the insanely small utensils, mimicking the way Ural used them. The food was the only saving grace of the situation, but he couldn’t get enough of the stuff in his mouth to give him any satisfaction. It felt like the luncheon was going on for hours and hours, and Gurjin could feel the pressure of sitting up straight on his back and how his pleasant expression was starting to strain. He was finally able to breathe comfortably was when the last of the tableware was cleared away. 

Maudra Mera was the first to speak, after demurely wiping her lips. “Maudras,” she smiled happily. “I was hoping that we might join our All-Maudra and her eldest daughter, they’ve asked us for aid in her upcoming ceremonies.” Gurjin hardly had to raise an eyebrow for Ural to lean over and whisper the answer to his unspoken question. 

“It’s a ladies-only event. Pretty popular in Ha’rar, specifically for ladies coming of age. The Maudras get to participate because the princess will be one of them some day, I suppose.” Ural’s tone was so quiet, Gurjin had to strain to hear him. The Maudras all nodded and rose, filing quickly and quietly out of the room. The two ladies left sitting, the Dousan and Spriton successors, looked at each other with an air of slight disdain, masked only with a thin tolerance. 

Selaya cleared her throat and, after taking a brief moment to close her eyes and meditate, stood. “Leeth?” So that was the Spriton girl’s name. “I was hoping you could show me some of those different embroidery techniques? I brought some cloth and thread with me from home, and I was very curious about how the Spriton bead their clothes.” Leeth seemed amicable with this arrangement, nodding quietly, and the two sped out of the room. 

Gurjin wasted no time. Clearly, Ural felt uncomfortable discussing this ritual or event in the presence of ladies. Now that there were clearly no more ladies left, Gurjin felt no shame in speaking at his normal volume. “So, this event?” 

Ural cleared his throat, his ears lowering and flushing with embarrassment. “Well, it’s sort of a marriage thing.” Banti and Lehn both perked up, moving closer to hear more. Ural quickly realized that he wasn’t getting out of this. “Usually, it’s the young lady and her mother. They talk about the kind of uh,” Ural swallowed hard, face growing more and more pink every second. “The kind of husband the young lady wants. For the first time.” 

Gurjn couldn’t see how this was embarrassing. “So it’s just a bunch of lassy-wings, sitting and giggling over the kind of husband they want?” 

Banti, face also turning pink, cut in. “Obviously, there’s more to it! She’s the eldest princess of the All-Maudra. They’re going to discuss something more important than the kind of eye color she wants her husband to have, idiot.” Banti added that last word hesitantly, testing to see how Gurjin would react. He valiantly resisted the urge to throw the child across the room, knowing how poorly that would reflect on him. 

“Well, maybe if you shut it and let Ural explain,” Gurjin tried to smile, but the threat in his tone was clearer than anything. “I’d be willing to shut your mouth for you, if it’s too hard.” 

Banti quieted, a glare making a solid home on his expression. “Well,” Ural shifted a little. “It’s usually different in every household. The mother’s lady-friends will come over and they all talk about the traits that are in a good husband and what the young lady wants. But, the higher up you go on the social ladder, the more serious the discussions become. For Princess Seladon, they’re probably discussing how to test the different gelfling that will try for her hand in marriage. It’s one of the biggest rituals in a young aristocrat’s life.” 

“Test?” Lehn perked up his ears in interest. He shot a testy glance at Gurjin before deciding not to say anything more. Gurjin’s threat to Banti seemed to extend to Lehn as well. 

“Yes. Think of it like this: a good husband has to balance his wife, help her with the things she can’t do, right? For regular gelfling like us, that just means we be their other half. Compliment their good parts and help them with the bad ones. But in Ha’rar? It’s far more political. The partners have to be a powerhouse. A husband can’t just help his wife with things she’s poor at, he has to make up for them. When it comes to Princess Seladon, she has to carefully play to her strengths and weaknesses. Marriage isn’t just love here, it’s politics and power. Beyond that even.” Ural wilted at this, and the rest followed suit. None of them liked the idea of marriage without love. It was so integral to the concept of marriage itself. Why get married if there wasn’t any bond? 

“That sounds . . .” Lehn’s ears were pulling downwards. 

“Horrible.” Gurjin finished for him. “So they all sit around and talk about what she’s bad at?” 

Ural nodded. “The princess has to admit any and all of her shortcomings to her mother and her mother’s friends, everything she fails at. I suppose it’s meant to be humbling, keep someone in check if they get too cocky, but it sounds more humiliating to me.” 

“And then they all suggest a kind of test to find the gelfling that will make up for what she lacks?” Gurjin felt a knot in his stomach. He was not officially of age yet, but the thought of Naia enduring the same thing made his heart ache. His sister was far from becoming anyone close to the All-Maudra, but would she have to marry for politics? The thought led him to an even more distressing idea. Had his mother chosen Bellanji just to make some statement to the other Maudras? Was he chosen for her? He reached back and gently brushed his fingers over the beads in his hair. No, that was impossible. Not with the way his father looked at Laesid in those dreams. 

Ural nodded again. Gurjin registered that his blush and hesitance to talk about this particular ceremony in front of the other ladies wasn’t because of embarrassment, it was because of pity. His ears twitched and he sighed heavily. “I can’t say I’ve heard of any other Maudra family putting their successors through this. It’s purely a Vapra custom.” Lehn shifted uncomfortably and swallowed a lump in his throat, his hands balling into fists. He looked particularly disgruntled at the last phrase Ural had mentioned. Gurjin held back his sigh of relief for Naia. 

“I think you’re a liar.” Banti stood up and stuck his nose in the air. “I think you’re just telling us things to make us feel bad and make us upset! You’re just trying to ruin the mood! No one wants to hear your go on and on about some dumb girl-” 

“Banti, please do us all a favor and shut up!” It was Lehn. He hadn’t raised his voice at any point before, leaving the group rather startled. 

A heavy silence fell over the group. Gurjin saw something behind Lehn’s expression, something he couldn’t quite read. Banti looked particularly infuriated at being silenced. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. 

“Do you think,” Gurjin chose his works carefully. “Do you think we could go outside?” 

“Outside?” Ural glanced at the large window in the dining hall. 

“I can’t imagine they’d lock us up in here. The streets looks a little more lively.” Gurjin watched as Banti slowly sat back down and Lehn relaxed his fists. “Lot more gelfling around out there, too.” 

“I think that sounds like a rather good idea.” It was Lehn. His fingers glossed over a braid that had fallen out of place. He pulled a pin from his belt and arranged the plait again. The rest of the boys seemed stunned. “What?” He smirked with overconfidence and tossed his hair impishly. “Don’t be jealous, childlings.” 

The group made their way through the halls, Ural serving as their guide. There were many twists and turns in the light blue labyrinth. Gurjin could swear the color was becoming less and less appealing with every glance. As they walked, Gurjin could hear Ural and Banti laughing about something. Banti had mentioned wanting to dance with some of his clan. Lehn was muttering about some street shop he’d seen on the way in that was selling some beautiful hair clips, and how he wanted to make a present out of it for his younger sisters, or at least that’s what he said. Gurjin supposed that he’d first try to find some decent meat, something with exotic spices. Then something sweet, maybe like a Stonewood sweet bun. His thoughts of the feast he was planning were quickly interrupted by a girl. 

Or more accurately, her voice. It sounded like bells, sweet and gentle, but clearly distressed. “Let go of me! I can walk on my own! Let go!” 

Ural quickly pressed himself to the curve of the wall to better see what was happening and listen in. It seemed to Gurjin like that was the best course and quickly followed suit. Banti and Lehn joined them. From their position they could see down the turn in the hall, where four paladins were quickly withdrawing from a beautiful Vapra girl. Her hair was pale and long, done in complicated braids. Gurjin noted the flash of a circlet on her brow and green and blue ink staining her dress and cheeks. Her eyes were burning with anger. “I’m sorry Princess, but we just had to make sure that -” 

“I’m fine! Thank you very much, I’m safe inside, now you can go!” Despite the anger in her voice, she sounded tired. 

“The All-Maudra asked us to make sure you made it to your room, Princess.” The paladin sounded upset, even a little panicked at the prospect of not following his orders. 

“I’m sure I can make it a few extra hallways on my own. You’ve done a wonderful job taking me from the library and escorting me here, thank you. Now can you please just let me go to my room on my own?” 

“Please, Princess, we have to.” It was a different paladin. “We’re sorry, we truly are. We didn’t mean to cause a scene like that. I know that you’re upset and I’m sorry that we laid hands on your arm. We just thought that you were going to -” 

“That I would fly away?” 

The paladin hesitated before speaking again. “Yes, Princess. We were given strict orders.” The princess looked frustrated, her wings were stretched to their full length. Gurjin had to admit their beauty. The gossamer material of them was so iridescent that he could see almost every shade of color slide through them. They were so small and papery compared to the huge, dark wings that he’d seen on the Drenchen. He noticed that they looked almost as strong and as practiced as Mira’s wings. Why would a Vapra princess need to fly? 

The group of boys made themselves look busy as the paladins passed them, protectively surrounding the princess. The four of them quickly slipped away, hoping to avoid any more awkward eavesdropping. Gurjin waited a few more paces before speaking again. “Who was that, exactly?” 

“That would be Princess Brea. Youngest daughter of the All-Maudra.” Ural shook his head. “She hasn’t changed since I left.” 

“You got to interact with the princess?!” Banti was beside himself. 

“Only on a few occasions.” Ural smiled a little. “She spends most of her time in the library in town. On large occasions like this, her mother asks for the paladins to watch over her, keep her safe. Usually that means escorting her to her room. Making sure she stays there.” Ural smiled a little. “Bit of an escape artist, when she wants to be.” Gurjin couldn’t figure out why, but the fact that a Vapra princess was so unruly made him a little happier than before.

“What about the other ones?” It was Lehn this time, adjusting some loose braid with another pin. 

“The other princesses? Well, of course there’s Princess Seladon, the eldest. I never saw much of her, always so busy with lessons and meetings. I saw much more of Princess Katavra. She was quite the trainer, ran my squadron through drills for hours.” Ural rubbed his shoulders, working out some imaginary sore muscles. 

“I’m sorry, did you say trainer? Princesses can’t be trainers! They’re princesses! They have more important things to do like - like meetings and politics. Everyone knows that.” Banti drawled on. 

“That’s what the eldest does. She’s inheriting the title of All-Maudra. The other princesses have to find other things to do. Katavra took really well to the sword. She commands the paladins now, I’ve heard. She’s quite the sparring partner.” Ural’s voice was full of admiration. 

“Really?” Gurjin snorted. “I’d like to see if that’s true. She can’t be all that good, I mean, I’ve seen Vaprans fight. And they usually take a bit of training up to beat a Drenchen.” 

“I don’t know Gurjin, she’s pretty good.” Ural laughed. “I’d like to see you try. I bet you couldn’t fight her even if she didn’t use a sword!” 

“Yeah? I bet I could beat her, even if I was drunk under the table!” Gurjin felt his chest swell with pride. She might be a princess, but as far as this place was concerned, he was also a prince. And if the Vapran princess thought that she could handle commanding the paladins, he’d like to see how she’d size up. He’d trained under Captain Ordon! Ordon! The most hardened and feared guard in all of Thra. Everyone knew his name. Gurjin wore the fact that Ordon had trained him with honor. 

“Even if you were drunk? Really?” Ural jingled some of the coins in his pocket. “Let’s work on that then, shall we?”


	6. Chapter 6

Gurjin loved this. He loved being in the streets with all the different kinds of gelfling. So many smells in the air and so many wares to look at. He’d seen Spriton and Stonewood craftsmanship before, but never had he seen the wonders that the Sifa and Dousan had produced. There was a whole stand dedicated to colored spices and another with rare gems and stones. Banti seemed to know all the Sifa there, exchanging meaningful glances with the occasional lady and laughs with the men. Despite his youth, he seemed very welcome with the adults of his clan, treated like he’d already come of age. 

Contrary to the looks he’d been cast earlier, Gurjin felt welcome with the Sifa. When accompanied by Banti, they treated him like they would any other member of their clan. Though it was superficial, it felt nice to be welcomed like kin again. He stuck close to Ural, never wanting to lose sight of him. Ural clearly knew his way around the streets and Citadel; Gurjin was sure to get lost without him. 

Lehn had made good on his earlier mutterings about the hair ornaments. Contrary to what Gurjin thought, that Lehn would purchase just one for himself, he purchased about six. He’d carefully asked the keeper what would look best for little girls, which pieces would be less likely to break, and insisting that they all be different from each other. Gurjin was able to slip next to him. “You know, I really thought that you were just going to get one for yourself.” 

“I did,” Lehn smirked, he pulled out a hair ornament. It was simpler than the others, still gorgeous Vapra craftsmanship, with pearls and gems set carefully in the gilded metal. “I only have five younger sisters.” He chuckled and tucked the piece away. 

Gurjin looked over some of the stalls set up along the street. There were many beautiful things, but nothing that he thought Naia would want. He wanted to find her something, something that would show her that he was thinking of her. Thinking of how she deserved to be in Ha’rar far more than he did. She was the Drenchen successor, not him. 

Naia had no need for thin combs with pearls and gems; she wasn’t the type. Her hair would hardly allow it anyway. She had no use for cooking spices; she didn’t cook or bake. Why would she need any silks or dresses when she almost exclusively wore hunting tunics? Gurjin shook his head. Ha’rar wasn’t the right place for Naia. It was too thin and cold and delicate for his sister. 

Disappointed by the wares, Gurjin found the food far more to his liking. He was able to take however big of bites he wanted, with far more variety of flavor. There were spices so hot that his lips burned, sweets that made his tongue ache, and fruits that he’d never seen before. He loved to watch how easily the Sifa were able to yank others into their dancing, the steps so simple and repetitive but beautiful all at the same time. The Vapra childlings slowly began to imitate the Sifan dancers, laughing and toddling in their own circle.

It was a cacophony of sound. Bargaining and singing and music and laughing. The air was thick with happiness and excitement that Gurjin hadn’t felt before, the kind that could only happen when cultures blended in harmony and joy. No one was fighting here, no casting of judgmental glances. He even saw a Drenchen with the Sifa, dressed in their clothes and a Sifan man on his arm. It was a sight to behold. Everything felt warm and light, so when Ural offered to buy him a drink, he didn’t hesitate to accept. 

When drinks were first mentioned, Gurjin thought that Ural was joking, or at the very least trying to seem more relaxed than he really was. But when he and Ural sat at the polished wood table in a well-lit pub, Gurjiin was pleasantly surprised when their drinks arrived without his needing to dip into the pouch of coins at his side. “It’s my treat,” Ural said with a wink. “Call it a favor to my higher up.” 

Gurjin had to hold back spitting out his ale. “Higher up? Please, that’s rich, coming from a Stonewood.” He drank anyway. Vapra ale was thinner and sweeter than what he was used to, considering the podling proclivity for drunkenness beyond all recognition. Gurjin wasn’t new to drinking. In fact, he quite liked it. When he had free weekends he would go out with Rian and Mira to a small podling outpost that had a strong and bitter ale. The nights usually ended with Mira dancing with the podlings, Rian sleeping on a podling-sized bar bench, and Gurjin asking for another round. The Drenchen alcohol tolerance was very strong, and Gurjin was its main inheritor. “What’s in this anyway?” 

“Sweet berries!” The barkeep shouted from across the tight room. While the bar certainly wasn’t busy by any means, the semi-steady flow of Vapra was enough to keep the barkeep on peak performance. “My daughters picked them last month, and it’s brewed fresh in our back house.” 

“Thank you!” Gurjin called back before taking another swig. He looked down at the frothing liquid in his cup and leaned closer to Ural. “It’s not the strongest I’ve ever had, but it’s the sweetest.” 

Ural laughed. “If you think this is good, you need to try the Stonewood stuff. We’ve perfected the art. It practically flows from the trees.” 

“Oh? I’ll have to see if that’s true for myself sometime.” 

“If you ever need some hospitality when you’re traveling back to the castle, seek me out. My family has a spacious house at Stone-in-the-Wood, they like to have company, and I’m sure I’d be happy to see you there.” 

“Well, if I take the scenic route,” Gurjin sighed and finished off his drink, noticing Ural’s stare. He hadn’t even finished half of his drink yet. 

The discussion continued at the same rate and so did the drinking. However, Gurjin didn’t seem to lose an inch of sobriety, while Ural had to stop himself after five drinks to “keep his maturity.” 

Slowly but surely, the clientele in the pub increased in numbers. The place became warm with the glow of the company and loud with the cheers and songs of happy drinkers. Gurjin slid into the same zone of comfort he’d felt with the podlings and their hoards of ale. Thinking on it, Gurjin realized that he always seemed to find himself at a bar with a Stonewood gelfling.

Of course, being the only Drenchen in the room, he quickly found that he was the center of the Vapran gelfling’s attentions. “Where exactly is the Smerth?” “How do you farm in a swamp?” “Do you really not use metal tools?” “What does a wild Nebrie hunt look like?” “Aren’t your dances mostly screaming?” The key differences between these questions and those asked at the Citadel was the intent. These gelfling only wanted to learn, to engage and swap culture, while those at the Citadel were aiming to demean and shame him. He could feel the difference in his bones. He could see it in the laughter dancing behind the pale Vapra eyes, the way they crowded and marveled at his hair and clothes, the way he was treated. Not like an outsider but more like a strange family member. Alcohol seemed to have that effect everywhere. 

“So, is it true that the Drenchen have a legendary alcohol tolerance?” It was a Vapra man, his hair just starting to gray with age. 

“I’d say that’s true,” Ural answered for Gurjin, slightly leaning into him for support. “I’ve gone against him drink for-for dru-drink! And he’s just as sober as he was this morning!” Ural glanced at a window, his ears drooping considerably. “Oh, no!” He grabbed Gurjin’s shirt and gave him a look a pure terror, pointing erratically at the setting suns. “We’re missing dinner!” 

Gurjin would have responded, probably to say something like how dinner wasn’t nearly important enough to warrant a reaction like Ural’s, but Gurjin was busy being pulled away by some Vapra men; all of them were cheering for a contest.

Gurjin wasn’t the kind of gelfling that simply turned a good challenge down. 

So, drink after drink, he matched the Vapra as they all fell to his mighty drinking ability. As the night wore on and his sobriety grew weaker, he could have sworn that he hadn’t paid for a single one of his drinks. At some point, he’d muttered about needing to pay, but the bartender swooped in. He declared that whoever was left standing had no need to pay for his drinks. Gurjin looked at the ever-growing sway of drunk and defeated Vapra and wondered how his tab would be covered. However, he had a challenge to face and a lack of money to pay for his tab; he simply needed to win. 

So he continued, almost clearing the pub of any challengers. Of course, the Drenchen Tolerance can only last so long into a whole night of drinking and merrymaking, and Gurjin was officially drunker than he had ever been in his whole life. But he still was able to muddle his way through conversation and walk, albeit with Ural’s help. His confidence was at an all-time high, whether that was the beating of an entire bar or the drunkenness was anybody’s guess. And, as the last mighty challenger laughed and claimed he could go on no longer, Gurjin slammed his beer stein on the table. “No one can defeat me! Not even that - what was her name Ural? That uppity little whisp Katia. Kateka. Katavra? Katavra!” He’d been rolling around the idea of challenging her to a fight almost the entire night. 

At his glorious declaration of victory, the pub suddenly went quiet. A gelfling had just walked through the door. A beautiful gelfling, with long hair tied into braids that framed her face. Her wings were strong and tall. Despite the rather boring dress, Gurjin noticed a very expensive looking sword sheathed at her belt. Her posture was almost as perfect as the visiting Maudra’s, and her expression was warm; her cheeks were pink with a blush. She was tailed by a Sifa woman, her curly red hair was pulled back into a strange looking hat. The Sifan’s eyes were big and round, almost as green as Banti’s. The Sifan wore a dress as well, decorated with pearls and gems. The Vapra spoke first. “That’s a rather bold declaration for someone like you.” The Vapra chuckled and pulled off her cloak, a smile playing on her lips as she handed it to the Sifan woman, whispering something in her ear. 

“Someone like me? Was’ that suppose’ ta mean?” Gurjin rolled his eyes. He was riding the knife’s edge of too drunk to function and drunk enough to make poor life decisions. 

“I mean someone who is so inebriated that he can hardly sit up in his own chair properly.” The Vapra laughed, brushing her braids behind her shoulders. “Granted, from the look of things around here, you earned the small bit of pride.” She eyed the heaps of waving and drunk gelfling. 

“Well, ‘s not my fault that ’m so good at drinking.” Gurjin’s expression softened in turn. He couldn’t get a read on this girl, but he felt slightly challenged. 

“You are? Well then, what’s another victory?” She sat down and held up her hand. “Two more please!” The barkeep happily brought over two more frothing drinks. Gurjin watched as the lady calmly tipped back the mug, downing the entire drink in one go. He did the same. Another set of drinks was brought. Another set of drinks was demolished. 

“Did - didja know that ther’s a princess? She fights!” Gurjin slammed his next drink on the table and wiped his lips. “Don’ think she’d be very good though.” His words slurred horribly. 

“I’m aware of her.” The Vapran gelfling eyed Gurjin with a smirk. Ural slammed his hand on Gurjin’s shoulder, but Gurjin didn’t bother looking Ural’s way. 

“I thin’ tha’ I should try to fight ‘er.” Gurjin muscled his dreadlocks behind his shoulders and held back a groan. There was a pounding in his head that was starting to bother him. 

“Gurjin, you should know that-” Ural had leaned to whisper something frantically in his ear, but Gurjin shoved him away unceremoniously. 

“I mean, how good can she reall’ be?” 

“Gurjin, listen to me, you shouldn’t say that.” Ural was looking oddly pale. 

“Shut it! ’m just speak’n tha’ truth. Little - little lassy-winged Vapra can’t - can’t beat me.” Gurjin laughed through his words, failing miserably to hold himself together. 

“A lassy-winged Vapra?” The silver-haired gelfling in front of him held back a laugh. Her Sifa companion seemed less entertained and more offended. “What exactly does that mean?” 

“I jus’ mean that it’s imposs’ble for some little princess to - to train up a bit, an’ than think tha’ she can beat me.” Gurjin rolled his eyes and started trying to braid three of his thickest dreadlocks. “ ‘S jus’ common sense, right? She’s a princess, no,” he belched, “no class t’all, them. Besides, ‘s not like she’d be any use in a fight, righ’? She’s had teachers, yea, with all that All-Moron money.” 

“All-Maudra.” Ural was visibly sweating. 

“Yea, her.” Gurjin giggled, dropping his voice to a whisper. Though, for a Drenchen, a whisper wasn’t very quiet at all. “Did - did I jus’,” he hiccupped before continuing, “did I jus’ call the All-Maudra a name?” Ural, looking even paler than before, nodded. Gurjin couldn’t stifle the cacophony of laughter that escaped his lungs. “Really? Oh, I don’ think I’m suppos’d to do that! Ha!” 

“Back to this princess business.” The Vapra woman pulled at some loose strands of hair, observing the ends for a moment before tossing her silver locks behind her. “What were you saying about her teachers?” 

“Oh, no no no, I didn’ mean offense on your clan. ‘S a nice clan. A really pretty one. Really, jus’ meant tha’ your princess, the sword one, what’s her name? Sword one. She’s jus’ probably not as good as you’ve been led to believe.” 

“And why is that?” It was the Sifan lady, looking pink in the face, her hands clenched into shaking fists. “I’d think that she was the most wonderful one out of all the princesses. She’s stronger than all of them combined and - ” 

“Onica, please.” The Vapran gelfling held up her hand, blushing considerably, and cutting off her companion. “I think he’s funny. He’s just telling jokes, dear. Take a breath for me?” The Sifan took her breath and relaxed. “Please, my friend, continue.” 

Gurjin held up his drink in a toasting motion, sloshing most of it onto the table, before continuing. “She probly got the title and lessons from her mother, righ’? And I’m not sayin’ tha’ she’s the worst out there. ‘m sure she’s good, for a princess. Bu’ when you’re a Vapra princess, you can’ just do sword stuff. There’s more stuff to be doin’ than that. Guards on the other hand,” Gurjin slapped Ural so hard on the back that Ural fell onto a neighboring table. “Poor guy,” Gurjin shook his head, “can’ hold his ale. Anyway! Guards, like us? We’re stronger, jus’ ‘cause we’re more trained up. ‘S not any bi’logical reason, we jus’ train harder. ‘S just how we are.” 

The Vapra cocked an eyebrow and gestured to the back of the pub, to the door that led into the winding brick backstreets. “Well, now I’m curious, dear friend. Would you like to try that theory?”


	7. Chapter 7

Princess Katavra of the Vapra clan, second eldest princess of the All-Maudra Mayrin, and leader of the Vapran paladins did not see her night going this way. She had planned to rescue her lovely Sifan partner from the clutches of boredom, possibly buy her a new string of gems and beads to decorate her hair or skirts, and take her into the depths of Ha’rar for a good time. Of course, Onica had lent her a rather heavy cloak to hide her face and form, given that the masses of Ha’rar would certainly recognize their fiercest princess. Tavra had made a point to not flaunt her wealth, but decided to surprise Onica with a string of pearls that reminded Tavra of the ocean. They were having a very pleasant night, with everyone making room for the mysterious hooded figure and her Sifan companion to walk into whatever shop they desired. It was when they entered the bar and Tavra let her hood drop that things became more complicated. 

Ural, soldier of the Stonewood clan and pride of Maudra Fara, did not see his night going this way. He had planned to purchase his young Drenchen friend a few drinks and escort him safely back to the Citadel for rest. He’d hoped that the other young princes that he’d been tasked with watching were safe enough, seeing as they’d slipped away before Gurjin and Ural had made it to the pub, but Ural figured Gurjin needed supervision more than Banti and Lehn. Banti was young, yes, but Lehn seemed responsible enough and had previously discussed his knowledge of Ha’rar. It was when his friend, Gurjin, accepted the drinking challenge of a few Vapra men that things became more complicated. 

Now the two were on either side of their now very drunk friend, his arms thrown around their shoulders, barely conscious. Vomit was drying on the front of his shirt and blood was still dripping from his nose. “You didn’t have to throw him so hard!” Ural tried to maintain his respect for his superior but, under the given circumstances, it was becoming difficult. 

“I didn’t mean to throw him that hard,” Tavra grunted in the effort it took to hoist Gurjin up a bit more, his feet dragging pathetically behind him. Gurjin groaned. “It isn’t my fault, please try to walk on your own Drenchen.” He tried and quickly fell, almost pulling Tavra and Ural with him. “Alright then,” with another huff, she pulled him up again. 

Gurjin was currently dipping in and out of consciousness. Part of him was very awake, begging his body to get up and walk on its own, but the other and much louder part of him was begging him to sleep. It was an odd feeling, a Stonewood on one side and a Vapra on the other. “Mira, ‘s fine, I got it.” He struggled to his feet, only to lose feeling in them and topple downwards, pulling Ural with him. “Sorry, Rian.” 

Ural contained his irritated expression and pulled Gurjin back up to his feet. “This isn’t how I wanted to spend my evening.” 

“Oh? And how did you want to spend it then?” Tavra glared at the road ahead of them, willing it to be shorter. She mentally ran through a list of paladins in her head. How many would be loyal enough to her that they wouldn’t mention how late she was away? The realization that the number of loyal paladins that answered to her and not her mother was close to none tasted bitter in her mouth. 

“I wanted to spend my night with my new friend here, making connections, and getting slightly drunk.” Ural tossed his head, trying to keep his dark bangs out of his eyes. “I quite like being slightly drunk, especially in good company.” 

“This is good company? He doesn’t smell like it. Or look like it. And, now that I’m thinking about it, he doesn’t feel like it. Given that I have half the weight of a nearly full-grown Drenchen on my shoulders as I trudge slowly back to the Citadel without my companion! We had plans, you know. Wonderful plans!” 

“Oh? I also had wonderful plans!” 

“I can assure you, our plans have no parallel.” 

“And why is that?”

“Because unless you were planning to bed this poor boy, our plans have no parallel!” Tavra spat the words in Ural’s direction, ignoring the drop of sweat slowly rolling down her nose. 

“I just wanted to make a friend! It isn’t my fault that you decided to initiate a brawl with someone with such a clear inequity!” Ural huffed, face reddening as he suddenly processed the meaning of Tavra’s words. 

“Well, if you had perhaps decided to take his age into account, he might not have had so much to drink!” 

“He’s of age!” 

“No, he isn’t!” Tavra released Gurjin’s arm for a moment to indicate specific twists in his braids near his face.. “See those knots there? He isn’t of age! Drenchen get those braids cut once they’re of age, you utterly pathetic excuse of a gelfling!” 

Ural kept quiet. He’d seen Tavra upset at ranks of paladins and knew that she had the unfortunate tendency to take out her frustrations on the drilling routines. It was always a cold fire when she was angry. Never did she say what was on her mind or discuss her fury, she directed it towards more respectful pursuits. He’d never seen her so upset that she snapped at someone before. He considered himself lucky that she hadn’t pulled rank on him and left him to drag Gurjin the rest of the way. 

Tavra took a calming breath and set her eyes up the slight hill. They were closer to the Citadel than they’d thought, their vision so obscured by the Ha’rar fog creeping in for the morning. Her voice softened, her anger slipping quietly to wherever she hid it. “We’re almost there. Can you hold him on your own for a moment?” Ural nodded and held his breath as the full weight of his young friend fell onto him.Tavra jogged ahead, slipping behind the gates of the Citadel. For a moment, Ural wondered if his former commander had left him and Gurjin to wait for the mercy of the morning patrol to let them in the gate. That was until he heard her calling softly from the metal gates. “Bring him here, quickly!” 

Ural groaned; he could practically feel the soreness setting into his bones. He looped one arm under each of Gurjin’s shoulders and, dragging him backward, brought him to the gate. “You can help whenever you’d like, Princess.” Ural couldn’t help spluttering a verbal jab in her direction. 

“I was making sure the paladins weren’t en route, thank you very much.” Tavra gave Ural a pointed glare and took Gurin’s side again. “You’re lucky I’m not a complete mess, or they might’ve raised just about every alarm the city can offer.” 

“Why is that?” The pair continued their heavy trek around the back of the Citadel towards the servant and soldier entrance. 

“Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I look like I was attacked by an untamed landstrider.” Tavra nudged open the door and it quickly and silently opened. Ural had to wonder how many times the beloved warrior princess had used this door for less savory activities. He had to admit, this was one of the worst views he’d had of his commanding officer. Her hair was falling out of its complicated braids, frizzy and undecorated. Her skin was patched with dirt and muck from the back alley street where she’d requested for the fight to be set. Even her dress was stained with sludge and torn in several places. The only pristine thing about her was the sword that never left its hilt, twinkling and shining in the moonlight. Ural tried to suppress how grateful he was to this princess for not drawing her sword, not even when Ural was sure that she’d need it. 

Despite the terrible state of Tavra’s appearance, Gurjin was far worse. The cuffs of his pants were coated with mud and dirt, his shirt was almost coated in vomit and blood that dripped from his nose, and the fabrics he’d used to wrap his feet were missing. Ural supposed it must have been torn off before Tavra launched him into a pile of garbage but after Gurjin had landed a sizable blow to her stomach. His feet had been exposed to the cold brick of the streets, opening the healing wounds he had sustained on his journey to Ha’rar. Though Ural couldn’t see the lacerations, he could imagine they were growing bigger and bigger with every step Gurjin tried to take. A part of Ural was impressed that Gurjin was even alive; the princess hadn’t bothered to go easy on him. The way she fought surely would have killed or seriously maimed anyone with less skill. Ural was equally impressed with how long Gurjin was able to hold his own. Even in his drunken and pained state, Gurjin’s advanced training was obvious. The only clear contrast between Gurjin and his opponent was sobriety, and that unfortunately spelled disaster for the heavily inebriated Drenchen. Ural hoped the two of them could put this embarrassing night behind them and have a proper sparring session in the future.

Tavra gave an appreciative sigh and dropped her side of Gurjin’s weight once they reached the barracks. “There. If you go fetch one of his clan they can take him from here.” Ural stared in confusion. 

Ural stared in bewilderment. “What?” Tavra shared the same confused look, so Ural attempted to clarify, “He doesn’t sleep in there.” He gestured to the barrack door.

“Of course he does. That’s where all the soldiers sleep. We even prepared larger beds for the Drenchen guests. Now just drop him, go get one of his clan, and we can be done with tonight.” Ural could detect the smallest hint of panic snaking its way into Tavra’s voice. 

“He isn’t a soldier.” At this, Tavra’s eyebrows shot up, disappearing under her mussed hair. Her thin lips dipped into a deep frown and her eyebrows raised in horror.

Panic now fully realized, Tavra could feel the blood draining from her face. “What?” 

“He isn’t a soldier.” Ural felt the blood leaving his face at the realization that Tavra didn’t know who Gurjin was. “He’s . . . he’s Maudra Laesid’s son.” 

Horrorstruck, Tavra shook her head and picked up Gurjin’s arm. “Where is he sleeping?” Her voice had suddenly become breathless, and it wasn’t from dragging Gurjin back to the Citadel. 

“Well how would I know?” 

“Of all the brainless- Ural, we need to get him in bed! He’ll be expected at breakfast in the morning and so will we! If my mother finds out that we were away from the Citadel tonight,” Tavra shivered. “No matter what, Ural, we need to get him in bed.” Tavra hurriedly started to drag him off towards the guest quarters. 

“How will we know which bed is his?” 

“You have good ears, right?” Tavra looked like she was going to explode with worry. Ural had never seen her like this. The tips of her ears were turning pink and he could see her chest rising and falling with the ever-quickening pace of her breath. Her eyes looked desperate and she had begun speaking hastily and intensely. “Listen for breathing in the rooms and look for light under the cracks of the doors. There are fireplaces in all of the guest rooms. Servants should be keeping them live throughout the night, unless a guest isn’t there. Since the Citadel is nearly packed to capacity with all the Maudras here, we just need to find the room without a lit fireplace or anyone else inside.” Ural became acutely aware in that moment that, if he hadn’t seen Princess Katavra with a female companion earlier in the night, he might have been very taken with her. 

Gurjin tried to help, at least the pair hoped that he was. Occasionally he would groan “nope” at a door or shake his head when they tested a doorknob. For a blackout drunk, he seemed to know which room was his. However, with this awareness, he was still far from sober. He was a little too forceful while shaking his head, resulting in his hair slapping Tavra and Ural about the face.They tried to forgive. Tavra had a mental count of every time a dread slapped buffeted her cheeks and vowed to give him a hard slap in return for each one. 

Finally, after going up and down the guest halls, Gurjin have a shaking thumbs up at a door, nodding. “Don’t put me in the water.” He groaned. The slurring of his words was gone now, replaced with the pained and halting voice of a gelfling that would be haunted by his first hangover in the morning. 

Tavra all but dropped Gurjin into Ural’s arms. “You’re a man, help him. I have my own matters to attend to.” She ran her fingers through her hair, knotting it at the back of her head. “I have a few servants that I need to bribe before sunrise.” And with that, she stretched her wings and soundlessly bolted away, inches above the floor. Ural was envious of her wings. Vapra ladies didn’t have to worry about making noise when they flew, something that the ladies of other clans couldn’t quite grasp. 

Ural had resigned himself to dropping Gurjin next to the fireplace, lighting it, and running back to his own room. But Gurjin looked so pitiful, with dried vomit flaking off of his shirt and the blood drying to his lips and chin. “You owe me, got it?” If Gurjin heard Ural, he made no indication. So, Ural drug him into the room and shut the door, making sure the lock was set. “Okay, how do I fix this? What do I do to fix this?” First things first, Ural thought to himself, he needed to get the blood and vomit off of this gelfling. 

He located the bathroom and, in one of the cupboards, found a stack of blue hand towels. Running them under the hot water, he took a mental inventory of the bathroom. There didn’t seem to be any medical supplies in the room, and Gurjin didn’t look like he had any ale poisoning in him, so Ural just continued adjusting the water temperature. Vapra water temperature was a delicate and dangerous game to play, one tweak in the wrong direction and the water could be boiling hot or freezing cold. It was all in the turn of the spigot. Ural noticed that Gurjin seemed to have previously turned the spigot to the hottest setting Either Gurjin didn’t know how to turn the spigot, or he was a huge masochist. 

Carefully and gently, Ural wiped the blood off of Gurjin’s face. It was hard to be gentle on some of the tougher spots on his face, but he didn’t want to add to the inevitable pain Gurjin would feel when he finally reached consciousness. The only thing that Ural couldn't bring himself to clean was the gills on Gurjin’s neck. They were light green and dry, crusting between the folds, and pink near some very sore looking spots. The gills were still as death, but they scared Ural more than the hellish drills that Tavra one dreamed up for his squadron. He refused to bring the wet cloth anywhere near them. 

“Alright, that’s the extent of my charity for tonight, friend.” Ural deposited the now pink stained hand towel into a small basket in the bathroom, making sure Gurjin was propped up near the window for fresh air, and quickly left the room. The dark bedroom was silent and cold, reminding Ural slightly of a tomb. 

About thirty seconds later, Ural huffed back into the room. “I can’t leave you with vomit on your shirt.” He locked the door behind him and moved back to the bathroom, filling the tub with warm water. Then, he stomped to Gurjin and hoisted him up. Gurjin muttered another apology to someone named Rian before Ural helped him into the tub, fully clothed. It was more like sliding a massive fish into a water tank, and the subsequent splash almost doused Ural entirely. Ural sighed and tied his hair back into a more practical bun. Using a clean hand towel, he started to scrub the grime and blood off of Gurjin’s feet and legs, noticing the bruises already swelling on the green skin. 

Gurjin sighed happily, eyes still closed, and slid his head into the water. Ural didn’t care too much: Drenchen could breathe in the water of course. He was fine until he noticed the jerking movements of Gurjin’s gills. Ural couldn’t tear his eyes away; he could feel the disgust knotting in his stomach and his throat clench, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off of the pumping of the slits in Gurjin’s neck. Then bubbles came out between the folds of his gills and popped at the surface in the water. 

That was enough to elicit a slight scream from Ural as he stumbled back into the vanity table, loudly jostling the thing. “I can’t! I can’t! I’m sorry! You’re fine, right? I can’t!” Ural tried to keep himself from throwing up as he ran out of the room, leaving a very happy and warm Drenchen in the bathtub. 

A full minute, Ural slammed the door open, no longer caring about the noise. He was mumbling under his breath about how he couldn’t leave a new friend lying in the bath and how the water might get cold. After much struggling and heaving, Ural was able to unceremoniously slam his Drenchen friend on the bathroom floor, the way a fishmonger might drop a rather large catch. Ural stared at Gurjin, amazed at Gurjin’s uncanny ability to sleep through anything. In fact, he seemed rather comfortable, smiling and nuzzling into the bathmat while mumbling about blankets and soft ladies. Using one of the clean towels, Ural dried Gurjin off as much as he could, paying special attention to the dreadlocks, which had already made a sizable puddle on the smooth stone floor of the washroom. 

It felt like hours, but Ural was finally able to drag Gurjin into his bed. To his slight frustration, he noticed that Gurjin was too tall to fully fit in the bed. His feet were dangling precariously out of the sheets, the blankets too short to cover him entirely. Throwing up his hands, Ural shook his head. “I can’t win. I just can’t.” Ural poked around the fireplace and decided that it wasn’t worth the trouble to light a fire. The color of the sky was enough to tell him it was time to find his room and find it fast. With a sigh and quick goodbye to Gurjin, who had managed to pull the pillow from under his head and snuggle it, he swiftly crossed the room, closed the door behind him, and sprinted down the hall, racing the rising sun.


	8. Chapter 8

The first thing that Gurjin registered was the light beating down on his eyelids. Then came the familiar tingle in his toes that told him that, once again, his feet had failed to stay under blankets in the night. Then the memories of the previous night flooded his mind. After a moment or two, he groaned and opened his eyes, fighting the urge to vomit as he slowly sat up; he sensed the rather unpleasant feeling that can often occur when a gelfling realizes that they are face to face with certain death. 

Gurjin had heard many terrible things in his life. Things that made his face burn hot with rage and his blood go cold with fear. But there was no sound in the universe more terrifying than the sound of his mother telling him good morning while stirring her tea from the corner of his room in Ha’rar. “Good morning Gurjin,” She smiled, eyes closed, he could practically feel her rage shaking the room alongside the blood draining from his face. “How did you sleep?” 

“Oh, you know,” His head ached and the pressure behind his eyes made it feel like he was going to explode any second. He was quickly losing feeling in his fingers and toes. He could feel the blood pushing and pulling through his system in the most uncomfortable of places. The room was tilting slightly to the left and the sound of Maudra Laesid stirring her tea echoed and rung in his ears, intensifying the migraine. Everything felt like a potential threat to the integrity of his stomach. “I’m doing great.” 

“Well isn’t that just wonderful to hear!” Laesid all but slammed her cup onto the small table she was seated at. Her eyes opened and narrowed into a glare and Gurjin felt his soul attempt to evacuate his body. “Because if I am mistaken, my one and only son left the Citadel last night without my permission.” 

“Did he now?” Gurjin tried to move, but his limbs felt too heavy to cooperate. He managed to lift the blankets a bit and, seeing the developing welts and bruises on his legs, quickly put the blankets back down. “That sounds like something only an irresponsible and very sorry son would do.” 

“I would think so.” Laesid stood, Gurjin wished he could do the same. “Because I’ve also heard tell that this wonderful son of mine went to a pub,” Gurjin’s eyes went to the window. How far down was the ocean? “And got mind-numbingly drunk.” Could he make it to the window before his mother got to his bed? “Fought a princess,” That gave him some pause. He fought a Vapran lady with nice shiny hair and a sword and a - oh no, of course, he fought a princess. “And snuck back into the castle. All before breakfast, which he missed.” 

“That son of yours must be extremely sorry for what happened.” Gurjin sat up a little straighter and blanched. “I would also be willing to bet that whatever he is going through right now is - is more than enough punishment for one gelfling.” 

“I am inclined to disagree. Move the blanket, Gurjin.” She was next to his bed now, the smile quickly dropping from her face. “Now.” 

“I would really rather not.” He faked a smile as well as he could and primly laid his hands on his lap. “Why don’t we talk about you? Your dress is looking particularly fresh today and-” In one swift motion, Laesid jerked the blanket clean off of him and tossed it unceremoniously onto the floor. The silence hung in the air like an ax ready to strike. “I can explain . . .” 

“You don’t have to.” Laesid had murder in her eyes. The hand that held her cane was clutching it so firmly that it was shaking. Gurjin wondered when the cane would splinter and break under his mother’s grasp. “I was told everything.” Gurjin opened his mouth to reply, but Laesid held up a finger, soundly shutting him up. “Ural was the only one of your little posse that managed to make it to breakfast this morning.” Just the word breakfast made Gurjin realize that he hadn’t eaten since lunch previous day and his stomach responded in turn, mimicking the sound of an angry landstrider. “The All-Maudra was there, as well as all of her daughters.” Laesid’s tone grew sharper and sharper with every word. “They were all expecting to meet you this morning, but I suppose we can postpone the formal introductions in favor of humoring a handful of spoiled childlings.” The last comment stung Gurjin like a whip, it wasn’t often that his mother called him spoiled. He’d grown used to the praise and warm regards she would shower on him when he saw her. 

“Mother I’m sorry, I am. I just wasn’t thinking.” He rubbed at one of the many bruises on his arms, acutely aware of the soreness that was settling into his bones. 

“That much is clear!” Maudra Laesid huffed and pinched the bridge of her nose with her free hand. “Do you know what I had to go through to keep this quiet? I had to negotiate with that princess, the middle one with the flowery name. Katavra.” Gurjin swallowed hard. So he did fight her. And he lost. “I nearly slapped the child silly myself, but that would have caused an incident. You are aware that fighting members of the Vapran royalty causes incidents, are you not?” Gurjin could feel the blood returning to his face in the form of a blush. He realized quickly that the humiliation was not going to end quickly and had the strong potential of lasting at least two or more days. 

“What did you tell her?” 

“I thanked her! I’m fairly certain that had she not kept her mouth shut in front of her mother, we would both be soundly escorted away by now!” Laesid slowly lowered herself to sit next to Gurjin, her stare never leaving his face. “And I thanked her for teaching you a little humility!” Laesid closed her eyes and leaned her head back. “You’re making me age faster, Gurjin, I mean it.” Gurjin would have laughed if he didn’t think she was serious. The guilt was so built up, he felt like it would leak out of his pores. 

“Mother, I’m sorry. I am.” He reached out a hand and rested it on her shoulder. “I never would have gone out if I thought it would have resulted in this.” A lump caught in his throat and his voice cracked. “I’m sorry.” 

Laesid sighed and met his eyes once again. “I know you are.” She rested her hand on one of the bruises on his arm and took a deep breath. “If you weren’t, I wouldn’t bother doing this for you.” With another breath, she summoned her vliyaya, and a cool sensation shot up his arm, relaxing his muscles and relieving the aches and pains. He tilted his head back and groaned. “Feels good, eh?” Laesid couldn’t help but chuckle. 

Slowly, Laesid set to the work of healing her son. She didn’t have to do it very often, but when Gurjin managed to get hurt, it was always a thorough affair. Laesid had been talented with her vliyaya for years and, with a bit of extra effort, was able to heal Gurjin without moving her hand in the slightest. A part of her, a very petty part of her, wanted to leave Gurjin’s headache but thought better of it. He would suffer enough later on. “Better?” 

“Leagues better.” Now able to move freely, he inhaled and stretched, his gills puffing open for a moment as well. “Thank you, Mother.” He shifted his position enough to wrap his arms around Laesid, burying his face in the crook of her neck. “I’m sorry.” 

“I know, child, I know.” She patted his shoulders and softly held him back. “I love you, Gurjin.” 

“I love you too.” He sniffed before pulling away. “At least I can walk now.” 

“You could walk before.” Laesid stood, digging her hand into one of the many concealed pockets in her skirts. She’d insisted on having as many pockets sewn into her dress skirts as possible when she stopped wearing pants. She produced a roll of sturdy fabric and pressed it into his hands. “You’ll have to wear shoes soon enough, but I think this should keep you from cutting up your feet for now.” 

Gurjin nodded and began wrapping the soles of his feet. “Where did you get this? It’s really nice.” 

“It’s a mother’s job to know the kinds of things her son will forget.” Laesid moved back to her tea and flopped into the seat. “It’s also my job to tell you exactly how you’ll be punished for this little stunt.” 

Gurjin’s ears drooped as reality crashed into him. “I’m still getting punished? But I thought that you took care of everything.” 

“I prevented us from getting booted out of the Citadel for the rest of our lives.” She waved his words away. “However, I still have to punish you for your behavior. So, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to meet you in the ballroom in an hour. This is for you, by the way.” It was only then that Gurjin noticed that veritable bounty waiting for him on the table. Steamed vegetables and the same creamy soup from the day before, still warm, next to a plate of what looked like spiced meat. “Eat, dress, ballroom. Think you can handle that?” Laesid tilted her head back and guzzled whatever tea was left in her cup and grimaced. “Honestly, how could they stand to call that swill tea?” She stood and nodded in Gurjin’s direction. “Please don’t be late.” 

“Yes, Mother.” He slid out of bed as she gently shut the door behind her, his mind reeling. What kind of punishment could she have possibly dreamt up for him? When he was a child, punishments usually entailed scrubbing the roots of the Great Smerth clean of any moss or invasive swamp muck with his sister. They had a tendency to find trouble together. He wondered how Naia would have handled the night before. She wouldn’t’ve run off and left the Citadel, she would have stuck close to their mother and learned all she could. Naia would have been the diplomatic and responsible twin, the real successor. Why hadn’t his mother chosen her? 

He made quick work of changing, opting for his most comfortable clothes and keeping his formal ones tucked neatly away in the dresser. He made even quicker work of the food. It was almost impossible to taste with how quickly he was eating. The only dish he paused to savor was the meat, another flavor and texture he couldn’t quite place, but one he enjoyed nonetheless. He saw no need for decorum, no one was there to watch, so he saw no problem with swiping some of the leftover sauces off of the plate onto his fingers and licking it off. He heavily considered licking the plate but decided that might be a bit too much effort for a hangover meal, no matter how good it was. 

With two of the three assigned tasks completed, he swung open the door to his room and marched out, matching the same steely reserve of a soldier about to spend time on the front line. He was brave. He was bold. He was ready for anything his mother could throw at him! He’d survived the most grueling training in all of Thra, he could handle a tiny punishment. 

Gurjin’s resolve lasted all of ten steps before it shattered and rotted at his feet. Ural was a few steps ahead of him, slouched with heavy shoulders, ears drooping and laboring with each and every step. “Ural, are you alright?” 

The Stonewood soldier turned and Gurjin had to fight the urge to run. Ural’s eyes were bloodshot, the bags under them looking nearly painful, and every step seemed to take a toll on him. “No,” Ural whispered. “I’m not alright.” 

“What happened to you?” From what little Gurjin could recall of the previous night, Ural hadn’t partaken in too much ale. This kind of reaction seemed a bit overkill, even for a nasty hangover. 

“Your mother is the most terrifying gelfling Thra has ever created.” Eyes wide, Ural shook ever so slightly. Ah, so Ural got one of Laesid’s prime “I’m disappointed” lectures. The horrible reaction made sense. Gurjin remembered having the same reaction when receiving that particular lecture the first time. 

“There, there,” he put a supportive arm around Ural’s shoulders, helping him up to a better posture. “It’ll be alright.” 

“She was just so upset . . . “ 

“I know. She’ll get over it.” Gurjin had to wonder if they were going to the same place. Even if they weren’t Ural could at least point him in the direction of the ballroom. “Hey, where exactly is the ballroom?” 

Ural shifted his gaze to Gurjin and moved to support his own weight. “You have to go there too?” Gurjin nodded. “Maudra Fara said that would be where my punishment was. Your mother emphasized the point.” 

“Yeah,” Gurjin gave out a nervous chuckle. “She’s good at that.” They kept silent the rest of the way to the ballroom. 

When they arrived, Gurjin was surprised to see that they weren’t the only ones there. Lehn and Banti were standing next to each other, Lehn looking particularly upset and Banti wearing a suspiciously large self-satisfied grin. Maudra Fara was there, eyes closed in what Gurjin thought looked like irritated meditation. Maudra Laesid stood next to her, patting Fara’s shoulder sympathetically, murmuring about patience and youth. Maudra Mera was also there, poking at Lehn’s back and loudly commenting on his posture and choice of hairstyle. Maudra Ethri was standing quietly behind Banti, a knowing smirk pulling at the corners of her lips. At least the Sifan pair seemed to be enjoying themselves. 

Gurjin remembered a time when he was much younger, when he and Naia stole dinner from the kitchens with a group of other children. He recalled in vivid detail how they had to stand in a straight line while his mother paced up and down, lecturing them all. He could recall the ache in his shoulder from how hard he’d had to scrub the dining room floor that night. Keeping this in mind, he filed quietly next to Banti, waiting for the inevitable lecture that was surely coming down the pipeline. Ural seemed to take the hint and slouched miserably next to Gurjin. 

Maudra Fara was the first to speak, well, snap. “Ural!” His posture straightened immediately. “Thank you.” The phrase sounded forced. 

“Now,” Maudra Mera spoke first, pacing to the front of the line, twisting a small handkerchief in her hands. The anxiety on her face was clear. “We all know that last night, you made some mistakes. Which is unacceptable.” Gurjin had to shoot her a confused look. Are mistakes really unacceptable? “As princes, you are representatives of your clan. Your culture! Your very position in this court!” Gurjin got the feeling that this speech was more for Lehn than for the rest of them. “You have a privileged position, being here is a gift. A gift from the All-Maudra! She arranged for you all to have rooms! Food! The privilege, the privilege, to attend her eldest daughter’s ceremonies and parties.” Gurjin could see Lehn trying his best to maintain his composure. Lehn’s ears were pressing further and further down as his mother continued to speak. “I cannot express with words just how disappointed I am.” Lehn flinched and Gurjin got the feeling that Lehn got more than his fair share of tongue lashings. 

Maudra Ethri stepped up, touching Mera’s shoulder and quietly dismissing her. “Listen, no one is that disappointed in you all. You’re all young, not yet ready for the adult world. You overstepped last night, we all know that. You all made decisions that were far too adult for your ages.” She shot a particularly nasty look at Banti. “However,” the look disappeared. “Since you are all so insistent on acting as adults, then you will behave as adults.” 

“Enough! There’s only so much of this I can handle!” Laesid jabbed at the floor with her staff. “If anyone else offers up another scrap of soft-talk, I will personally ensure that they spend the rest of the day completely miserable!” She gave Mera a look that implied her fellow Maudra’s weren’t safe either. She was met with silence. “You’ll each be attending the official ball for Princess Seladon, the entire night, and you will dance with her and her sisters in the Vapran way." 

“Mother, none of us know how to dance that way.” Gurjin was the only one brave enough to speak up to his mother. 

“You think I don’t know that?” Laesid sniffed. “You’ll each meet here, after breakfast, every morning for the next week. You’ll be learning all day.” Banti looked particularly offended, his jaw dropping open. Laesid inhaled, saving the worst for last. "In addition," she continued "you will be meeting with Lady Nyrn for lessons in manners and courtesy in the afternoon." Gurin had to admit, it was a creative punishment, and judging by the glint in Fara’s eye, she and his mother had a joint role in creating it. 

“But, Maudra Laesid-” Lehn took a step forward, trying to plead some lost case. 

“If you say anything other than ‘Yes Maudra Laesid’ I will ruin you, child.” Laesid glared at him with full force. 

“Yes Maudra Laesid.” 

“Now, we will be checking in with you at the end of every day to track your progress. If one of you isn’t up to snuff, you’ll be spending meal times with Lady Nyrn for extra instruction.” That seemed to be directed at Gurjin, who could already feel his lack of social grace catching up to him. “Don’t worry, you’ll have breaks for lunch and stop at dinner every night. Demonstrate your abilities appropriately at the party and you will be appropriately awarded. Disappoint me, or the All-Maudra’s eldest daughter, the inheritor of her title and your future All-Maudra,” Gurjin saw murder fill his mother’s eyes, “and you will be appropriately punished. Have I made myself clear?” 

She was met with a chorus of “Yes Maudra Laesid” and one, slightly quieter, “Yes, Mother.” 

“Good, now, your teacher.” Laesid rapped her cane against the ground again and the doors to the decorative ballroom opened. Gurjin felt his heart drop right out of his chest and shrivel on the ground in pure horror. 

Lady Nyrn flounced into the room, displaying an impressive number of bows and ruffles in an iridescent blue. The skirt of it was far larger than anything Gurjin had ever seen before and had the entrance to the ballroom not consisted of two fantastically large gilded doors, she wouldn't have fit through. Her hair was curled and piled on top of her head with several large, glittering hairpieces that made Lehn’s choices the previous day look humble. He could hear her shoes clicking on the ground and made a mental note to check and see if they left tiny holes. “Oh. My. Goodness!” She squealed and paced over to the line of young men, clearly fascinated. “You look so handsome this morning!” No one knew who that line was directed towards in particular, as her wide eyes darted hungrily from one to another, but they all secretly hoped it wasn’t them. “What a line of respectable young princes. And you.” She shot a cool glance at Ural before cupping his cheeks in her hands and slapping at them in a way that was meant to be playful. “I’m just kidding, you’re just so strong!” Her hands drifted to his shoulders. 

Gurjin sent a look of pure panic to his mother, who was scowling. If looks could kill, Gurjin was positive that Lady Nyrn would be eviscerated and decorating the walls. Laesid shook her head and cleared her throat, a sound which Lady Nyrn ignored as she shot over to the young men. She fawned and gasped over just how muscular they were all looking that day and how she missed them all so dearly at breakfast. Of all the females in the room, the only other pleased one was Maudra Mera, who seemed to take every compliment lobbed in Lehn’s general direction quite personally. 

Laesid was the one to put a stop to the nonsense, slamming her cane on the ground and clearing her throat again. “Excuse me, but I recall asking for four dance instructors this morning after breakfast.” 

“Oh! Maudra Laesid,” Nyrn laced the name with honeyed acid. “Of course you did!” Her voice was so high and squeaky, just dripping in fake respect. “You see, I arranged for them, just as you asked, but as Director of Citadel Decorations, I just had to inspect the ballroom and make sure that it was up to scratch for these lovely instructors. I prepared them just for you and it took ever so much effort!” Gurjin wondered how hard it would be to ask four other ladies to help the bumbling oafs to run footwork with them, apparently, it took quite a bit of mental strain, from the way Nyrn made it sound. “Finding young ladies that would match them all aesthetically is just such a struggle, but I knew it could be done!” 

“What good are aesthetics, exactly?” Laesid could hardly hold back the disappointment in her tones, brown pressing in the confusion only someone completely gobsmacked by culture shock could wear. “This is an instructional period, not a matchmaking session.” 

Lady Nyrn tittered, covering her smirk with her hand. “Oh, I highly doubt that any of the ladies I selected would want to . . . entertain that particular thought.” 

Maudra Mera was the most offended by the comment, possessively stroking Lehn’s shoulder and clicking her tongue in a quiet protest. Gurjin took the time to survey the room, taking in the gilded ceilings and shining marble floors. He swore that if he squinted hard enough, he could see his own reflection in the polished stone. Banners and tapestries covered every inch of the wall, and much like the dining room, one wall was made entirely of floor to ceiling windows. Tinted blue and held together with the same swirling metalwork from his room, he could see the blurred shapes of the festivities outside and felt a pang regret for his drunken escapades. 

His gaze was interrupted by the sound of the double doors opening and the soft padding of tiny slippers as four beautiful young Vapran ladies sashayed into the room. Each was clearly different from the other, but they all shared the same pastel blue robes that hung delicately off their frames. Their walk was timed, uniform, as they each filed in front of a young man and curtsied, everyone in the room held their breath. It was impossible not to, they moved through the air the same way a silk scarf would as it floated in the air. 

“These are the young ladies that I’ve conscripted to your cause! Helped design the uniform myself, of course.” The peace that the young women had created with their presence was shattered by Lady Nyrn’s voice. “They’re all court trained, obviously, and very well behaved. I said to the head of their departments ‘They simply must be beautiful!’ I couldn’t bear the thought of these fine gentlemen learning to dance with any of the typical court dancers! I’d simply roll over and die! Simply die!” A small part of Gurjin wished she would simply die.

Nyrn continued to babble and Gurjin took the time to observe his apparent teacher. She was far shorter than him, she barely came up to his chest, and he noticed that she was thinner than the other gelfling he’d seen in Ha’rar. If he wasn’t careful, he figured he’d accidentally break her bones. The neckline of her dress robes dipped just enough to show her collarbones, which Gurjin was shocked to see were jutting out and probing at the skin. Just how thin was she? 

“It’s rude to stare at your partner’s chest.” Her voice, as soft and clear a bell, interrupted Lady Nyrn’s speech and introduced an uncomfortable quiet. Laesid hid her face in a palm and groaned. “First lesson.” Gurjin’s instructor raised her eyes and straightened her posture and haughtily raising her chin. He took in her sharp cheekbones and deep-set green eyes, the way her pale lips curved downward as she spoke. “Furthermore, it’s uncouth to stare at something you’ll never have. If I catch you doing it again, I’ll break one of your toes.” Gurjin got the overwhelming feeling she didn’t volunteer to be his partner.

And thus began the worst hours of Gurjin’s life.


End file.
